Into the Night
by RipleyReprised
Summary: Balamb Garden is closing. What's a hardened SeeD to do? Get smashed with her friends and hope tomorrow never comes. What else?
1. Part One

_**Disclaimers etcetera:** Everything you see below and in the proceeding chapters is owned by Square Enix Holdings Co., Ltd. I was inspired to write this based on a single line of dialogue. Bonus points for guessing which one it is._

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 **Part one**

When Quistis enters Cid's office, it is with the somber knowledge it will be for the last time. Most of the contents have already been removed. The headmaster had taken all personal items with him before he departed Garden last week, about five minutes after the last student was picked up. All that remains now are file boxes and a stack of useless SeeD manuals heaped on the desk.

The back of her throat tightens. The minimal scene before her is so final. It hits her harder than the echoing halls outside. How many times has she stood at attention in front of this desk? How many nervous cadets and sweating SeeDs have saluted in this precise spot? It feels like such a short time ago when Cid whispered his congratulations in her ear, certain she was headed for great things. She hasn't cried once since the mandate came down. She is proud of this. The tears she feels threatening to slide under her eyelids now worry her. If she lets them come, they might never leave.

"Is that it?" A quiet voice calls from behind Quistis, and she jumps, startled. Already she is losing the awareness she honed as a SeeD. She wonders what will be next.

Before facing the intruder, she closes her eyes and allows herself a moment to compose her emotions. When she feels ready, she turns halfway around and spares the man in the doorway a nod.

"Yes, I think so. Everything is packed and ready for storage," she replies. The words don't wobble. She has not lost her discipline for artifice. "Will you be here tomorrow when the crew arrives?"

Squall grunts. Whether in assent or dissent she doesn't bother to analyze.

It doesn't really matter if anyone supervises the removal of the last of Balamb Garden's equipment, she knows. They are destined for a Galbadian basement, where they will mold and whither. A brief history discarded. Forgotten. Renounced. Right along with Quistis' purpose in life.

The two former SeeDs stand in silence, looking about the empty room. Quistis wishes Squall would leave so she could mourn. It seems she is only permitted solitude when it is the last thing she desires.

It is strange to see him out of uniform, she thinks. Even during the past few weeks when it no longer became necessary, he donned the Balamb black and blue. Perhaps, like her, it had been out of habit, part of the role he needed to keep playing. Today he is in off-duty leather. Mission complete.

Their awkwardness is interrupted by the ping of the elevator outside. Relieved, she turns and moves deeper into the room, as if she has something important to double-check. She doubts her behaviour will be questioned.

"Hey, hey, hey!" She hears her friend Selphie greet Squall. "It's so freaking quiet up here. I guess there's only, like, five of us left in the whole building, huh? Super weird."

Squall clears his throat. Quistis pictures him shifting from one hip to another while she pulls a stack of papers out of an open box. Flipping through them, she feigns fascination with old mission reports. Her handwriting is on the top of almost every form. The glasses she no longer needs to wear slide down her nose.

"Oh, wow! Cid's office is all empty. Kinda creepy, don't ya think?" Selphie continues. Quistis assumes Squall shrugs in response.

Operation Winhill Monster Clean-up fifty-eight-point-two, she reads from the title of a form. Mission names had become less and less secretive over time. Back when she'd first joined Garden they were given more creative names like Operation Starfish and Campaign Roundhouse. The growing lack of subtlety should have been a tip off to the changing winds. Two SeeDs assigned, she reads further down the page, three cadets. Twenty three confirmed kills reported. The date by the signature is six months old.

"Do you need any help, Quisty?" asks the other female.

Quistis takes her time glancing up from the document in her hands. Selphie shimmies in the entranceway, Irvine's hat slanted over her reddish-brown hair. Squall stands a short distance away, one hip jutting out, just as Quistis knew it would be. He is facing toward the door so she can't gauge his expression but she suspects there is nothing to read there regardless.

"No, thank you. I just have a few things to finish up." Pushing her glasses back into place, she forces herself to smile. "Maybe I will catch up with you later?" The question hangs.

"What do you mean 'later'?" says Selphie. Her nose wrinkles as she frowns, and she stops dancing to fist her small hands at her hips. Leaning forward, she does her best impression of a glare. "We are all going out to get smashed tonight, right? Like... As soon as possible?"

"Uh..." Quistis begins, looking to Squall for help. It is a fruitless attempt as he is busy examining the fingers of his gloves. "I don't believe I'd heard of these plans. I'm not sure I'm up for something so intense." She tries to colour her tone with regret. "Perhaps we can get together for breakfast in the morning instead?"

Selphie is not put off by the other woman's obvious, and likely anticipated, reluctance. She stamps her foot and attempts a little jig. "C'moooon. It's gonna be a blasty blast! One last blow-up. Squall is even up for it, aren't you?"

As if he feels the force of Quistis' gaze swinging in his direction, Squall looks up from the seamline along his thumb to read the unasked question in her eyes. He shrugs in apology. To Selphie, he says, "yeah, sure, whatever." He waves his hand in front of his face. "But Rin and I can't stay long. We have an early flight."

"Woo hoo!" Selphie cheers and hops in victory, one fist in the air. "See, Quisty? You HAVE to come now. The Commander says so." She wags a finger at the other female. "It's your final duty."

Considering Quistis' plans for the evening revolve around curling into a ball of self-pity in her shared room with Xu at the Balamb Hotel she is not sure club-hopping will fit into her hectic agenda. Knowing Selphie, a quick drink at the hotel lounge is not the younger woman's definition of a 'blow-up'. Her brain works to think of a viable excuse to bow out. All of her standard options of paperwork and mission preparations are no longer valid.

She is saved from answering right away by another ping of the lift. Not long after, Irvine saunters into the office with the much shorter Xu close behind. Both are in civilian clothing. There is not an epaulette or starched collar to be seen. With three people now clustered at the room entrance, Quistis feels her shoulder muscles tense beneath her stiff uniform jacket. It all feels far too much like an intervention. Her hopes for seclusion vanish. In a building this large, with so few inhabitants left, one would expect it easier than this to hide.

"So," Irvine says, lifting his hands and smiling at everyone in the room in turn. "Are we ready to make some tracks and leave this dusty ol' museum behind?" His sparkling eyes land on Quistis. At her returning glare of suspicion, his grin widens.

Quistis holds back a sigh. Is she the only one not in a hurry to leave Balamb Garden? She drops the sheath of papers she is still holding back into the file box.

"Not so fast, Kinneas," Xu replies. "I have one final mission assignment for all of you." Dark eyes gleaming, she pulls a folder out of the inside pocket of her red suede jacket. Flipping it open, she reads the title in her usual strident, professional manner. "Official Balamb Garden Mission five five four six. Operation Get Quistis Trepe Hammered."

"Yeah!" Selphie whoops, leaping into the air once more. She points a finger at Quistis who is too busy glaring at Xu to pay attention to her antics. "No getting out of it now, Quisty!" Giggling, she turns to Irvine and exchanges a high five. "Best. Mission. Ever."

"Very funny," says Quistis. "Really creative, even. But I believe we were all permanently off-duty as of sixteen hundred hours today, and it is now..." She glances at her watch and smiles. "sixteen-oh-eight." This acknowledgement of the time causes a lurch behind her ribcage. She is officially no longer a SeeD.

"Perhaps," Xu allows with a shallow incline of her dark head, cutting into Quistis' spiraling thoughts. "But technically this mission was in effect the moment Cid signed off on it. Meaning it was assigned almost a week ago, while we all had full SeeD status."

Ignoring the growing desolation in the cavern of her stomach, Quistis narrows her eyes and strides across the room. She slips the file out of Xu's hand, assuming she will find a blank piece of paper inside. Much to her amazement, the folder contains a full mission brief, complete with a list of necessary resources, map of all the bars in Balamb, and required timelines. The headmaster's familiar signature flows across the bottom corner of the last page.

"You-you actually got him to sign it," she stutters, shifting her gaze to Xu's smirking face. "Unbelievable. I don't even know what to say. You are..." Her voices trails, and she shakes her head.

"A freaking genius?" Selphie fills in. She loops her arm through Quistis' and pulls her toward the elevator. "Time to party! Cid's orders!"

"Squall?" Quisits calls as Xu nabs her other arm. Her tone borders on desperate. "A little help?"

The lift doors open, and the two women escort her inside. Their grips hold firm to her upper arms. Short of martial arts, there is no chance of breaking free.

The two men follow them into the car. Squall looks at Quistis and raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Quistis. If Cid signed it, there's nothing I can do."

Is he actually smiling, Quistis wonders, stunned. She must have imagined it, she tells herself. Squall never smiles and certainly would not do so at such a ludicrous situation. Still, when she glances at him again before he turns to push the button for the main floor, she swears she spies a slight twitch in his upper lip. She lays the top of her head against the back wall of the elevator car. Fantastic.

Her arms remain in the possession of her friends all the way down the main hall, but her captors finally relent by the time they arrive at the parking garage. Quistis had hoped she would have some time alone to wander the halls, exhume old ghosts, before she left the building for good. Apparently, her friends will not be allowing her this last respite. As soon as they enter the car park, Xu scuttles Quistis over to her SUV, gives her no choice but to slide into the passenger seat, and then shuts the door in her face.

More than a little irritated, Quistis keeps her arms folded over her chest and her mouth shut during most of the drive into town where their personal items are waiting for them at the hotel. She had fought Xu earlier in the week over the sensibility of staying in Balamb for their last night when there was perfectly acceptable, and empty, space in Garden. The extra expense seemed unnecessary. Now it was becoming clear why Xu had insisted everyone leave.

"Don't pout, Quis," admonishes Xu, breaking the silence as she steers through the town gates. "You might even enjoy yourself."

Quistis sits up in her seat and straightens her shoulders. "I'm not pouting. I just don't appreciate being manhandled and ignored, like I don't have a right to boundaries or personal autonomy."

"Bullshit. You're upset because I stopped you from mooning around Garden all night feeling depressed and sorry for yourself."

Quistis knows this is true, though she isn't going to admit it out loud. In her head it sounds more like reflection than mooning. She wants to have some time alone in the space that had been her home for over a decade - time to say goodbye. It is hard for her to understand why this is wrong. She thought that this might be what she needs to move on, that letting herself brood might help her make a decision.

Everything is racing forward faster than she feels safe to drive. All of her friends and colleagues seemed to made plans for new lives without a second thought. It isn't so easy for her to move on. SeeD, and moving up the ranks in SeeD, was her sole ambition. She can't think how anything or anywhere could be a replacement for Garden.

"I'm worried about you," says Xu, pulling the oversized vehicle under the narrow car port of the hotel's entranceway. She turns off the ignition and faces her friend. "I only did it because I care."

Quistis raises her eyebrows and cocks her head. "You've assigned a mission to pour alcohol down my throat because you're concerned for my well-being?"

"Exactly!" With a grin, Xu leans forward and tugs on Quistis' uniform tie. "We need to get you out of that hideous thing and into some real clothes. It's only a short while before we'll be in Galbadian dress. Time to be a little wild while we still have our freedom."

Winking, Xu rotates toward the open driver's side door, where a valet hovers, and hops outside. Somehow, she manages the make the small jump appear athletic and efficient. After handing her car keys to the hopeful teenager, Xu waits for Quistis to join her in front of the sparkling doors of Balamb's premier hotel. The moment Quistis' boot touches the red tiles of the entranceway, Xu is off again, forging past the doorman and forcing the other woman to rush after her, notwithstanding her much longer legs. As if she can ward off any further protest with pure kinetic energy, Xu keeps her movements brisk and maintains a steady monologue as they make their way to their room on the sixth floor.

For her part, Quistis' brain captures less than a dozen words. She had stopped listening the moment her friend mentioned Galbadia Garden. The desperate anxiety of the previous ten hours now churned into something even less pleasant: guilt. She realizes that Xu believes they will be working at the military institution together. It explains a bit of why her friend has not been as bothered as she by Balamb's closure. Trying to smile when Xu chuckles beside her in the glass elevator, Quistis struggles to pay attention. When they exit the lift, she watches her progress ahead of her down the bright corridor. The forced curve in her lips falls away and she dawdles behind, pretending to re-button her jacket.

It is likely best to tell Xu as soon as possible that she has not yet accepted Galbadia's offer of an instructorship. In truth, she hasn't accepted any offers. Not only is Quistis without SeeD status, she is without a job. Xu will not be pleased.

It isn't as though she hasn't been headhunted. Soon after Garden's closure was made public, she received many generous offers, including from the President of Esthar, the Duke of Dollet, Trabia Garden, the soon-to-be-formed Balamb Academy, and even the Community Council of Winhill. The only region from which she didn't receive an offer letter was Timber. Seeing as the territory is under Galbadian martial law and has fewer resources than Centra, she doesn't expect one any time soon.

When she reaches the door of their shared suite, Xu has already blown inside. Employing one last stalling technique, Quistis adjusts the clip holding back her hair. She smooths her hands down the sides of her skirt in an effort to calm herself then enters the room, taking the time to swing the door shut behind her.

Xu is nowhere to be seen in the main area of the suite, which is really closer to an apartment with a wide living space and two bedrooms with full bathrooms. It is much plusher than any hotel room in which Quistis slept as a SeeD. She is glad Xu suggested they indulge themselves. After the grueling few months spent dismantling Garden, and their lives, luxury is welcome.

Sinking into a sofa, Quistis focuses on the view of the ocean on the other side of the glass that is the west wall of the living room. She tips her head back and closes her eyes. She isn't sure she will want to move ever again.

"How would you like to start?" Xu's sharp voice slices through her thoughts like a cleaver through a bone. Quistis opens her eyes to see several bottles thrust in her face. 'Vodka, whisky, or wine? I can also get room service to bring up some gin, if you prefer. Maybe vermouth? I can make martinis."

For the first time all day, Quistis finds herself laughing. The sight of her friend's gleeful expression and her skilful fingers dangling four large bottles of alcohol puts her at ease.

This is Xu in her most comfortable form. Other than a few intimate friends, no one at Garden would have believed Xu had a casual side, let alone that she could mix a cocktail better than any bartender Quistis had ever seen - while matching him or her pour for pour as well. The older woman's position at Garden had required extreme professionalism and strict adherence to protocol. It was but a lucky few who got to know her informal and less aggressive traits. Quistis considers herself both fortunate and unfortunate to be familiar with all of them.

"Hyne, Xu," she says, still giggling. She pushes the bottles out of her face and stands. "I thought we were going out to drink. Are you in that much of a hurry?"

"It's called pre-drinking, Trepe. Honestly. You'd think you received no education at all," scolds Xu, with a sorrowful shake of her head. She walks over to the bar at the back of the room and plunks down the bottles before swiveling back around. "So? What'll it be? If you don't tell me, you have to drink whatever I make you."

"Ugh! Fine, whatever," Quistis acquiesces. There is never a point in arguing. She resigns herself to a very exhausting night. "I don't care. Just let me shower first, please. I'm covered in dust and something that smells like dehydrated grat organs."

Quistis does her best to extend her cleansing ritual for as long as possible but less than twenty minutes later she is standing in her bedroom staring at the few clothes she'd brought with her from Garden. All of her other clothes had been Garden-issue and did not belong to her. As per the ordinance that was mandated when the shutdown was announced, all objects owned by Garden were to be destroyed by Garden. No SeeD, cadet, or staff member was permitted a single memento. Security reasons were cited, future liabilities; Balamb Garden was to cease to exist. The fact that she'd worn her uniform outside of the institution this afternoon put her in violation of the rules.

Quistis decides she doesn't give a damn.

The paltry selection laying on the king-size hotel bed is the only clothing that remains in her possession: a skirt, a pair of dark jeans, a pair of black slacks, a red dress Rinoa gave her for her birthday that is far too short at both ends, a handful of tops, and a hooded sweatshirt. She figures none of these items will impress Xu, unless one includes the dress, which she does not.

She settles on the jeans and a loose, short-sleeved blouse. Paired with a leather jacket, she hopes the outfit is suitable for the Balamb bar scene. Besides, this permits her to wear her favourite pair of boots. Unadorned, low-heeled, and customised at a specialty shop in Dollet, Quistis wears the tall dragon leather boots as often as possible. So much so that this is actually her third pair. With her long legs, it was always difficult to find a pair that hit just the right height below her knee. The Dolletian cobbler provided her with the perfect fit she's never found anywhere else. They are practical and comfortable, she reasons, and suit any SeeD activity, worth the high price tag. She doesn't care what snarky comment Xu might make.

When she looks in the mirror after sliding them on over her jeans, she almost feels like herself. The boots give her hope and renew her confidence. Perhaps there is a chance that there are parts of her not hinging on being a SeeD.

Xu hands her a martini glass filled with a brilliant blue liquid when she emerges from the bedroom. If the other woman doesn't agree with her sartorial selections, she doesn't say anything. She gives Quistis a smile and offers a toast with her highball glass. "To the first day of the rest of our lives." The amber liquid stirs as she plinks the rims of the glasses together.

Quistis nods and takes a sip, something sweet and sour fills her mouth. "I'll drink to that."

It's another drink and another hour before they prepare to meet the rest of the group. Clad in all black with a pair of heels that make Quistis' calves tingle, Xu scrutinizes her friend's appearance. The outfit can't be helped, she determines, but she chastises Quistis for not doing something better with her hair.

"Let it down for once, will you? It makes you look like a nervous cadet when you wear it like that with civilian clothes. And ditch the glasses. You know you don't need them."

"I do need them," Quistis defends. "I use them to read."

"What kind of reading are you expecting to do tonight?" asks an exasperated Xu. She shakes her head, her cropped hair brushing along sharp cheekbones. "Never mind. Don't answer that. You are the one person I could see pulling out a textbook in the middle of a dance floor."

"Give me some credit," replies Quistis, unfastening the clip from her hair with reluctance. She shakes out the thick blond tresses and makes a face at herself in the mirror. "I would never read a textbook on the dance floor. That environment is more suited to modern novel, don't you think?"

Xu's laughter is a burst of pure mirth. She throws her arm around her friend's shoulder and grins at their reflections. "We are going to have the best time tonight." She kisses Quistis on the cheek with a smack then releases her to stride toward the door. "Let the games begin!"

As it is early summer, the tapering streets of Balamb are filled with tourists stopping to take photographs and peruse menus posted outside seaside cafes and bistros. In spite of her footwear, Xu has no trouble navigating the eager and unobservant crowds and leads the way to the agreed upon restaurant. The group had figured they'd start at a new hotspot then move on as the night guided them.

It isn't difficult to locate the right place. The moment she spots them strolling toward the sandstone building, Rinoa lets out a joyful shriek and beckons with a vigorous wave as she and Squall walk toward the iron doors from the opposite direction. The woman's dark hair reflects the glowing light of the setting sun behind her. Squall ambles at her side, hands shoved in the pockets of his black leather coat. He looks weary, but that is nothing new.

"Bloody hell," mutters Xu to Quistis as they make their way over. "We did not pre-drink enough for this."

Qustis chuckles in agreement, glad she is not alone in her discomfort. Yet, the quip helps her to smile without reservation with Rinoa dashes forward to squeeze her a in tight hug.

"It is so good to see you! Feels like forever! I am so so glad you came," says the younger girl before releasing her. "You look fantastic, by the way. I love your hair like that, and that jacket is gorgeous."

"Thank you," Quistis replies, touched more than usual. "It's great to see you as well." Her smile deepens. Rinoa's warmth is genuine and disarming.

Though their personalities differ on multiple levels, Quistis has always admired Rinoa's natural ability to charm and inspire. The younger woman seems to know how to make everyone feel valued without any effort at all. It took Quistis a while after meeting her to recognize her open disposition for what it is. With a strict military background, she had a hard time understanding how someone could be so authentic and passionate without reservation. At times, Rinoa's quickfire emotional responses grated. Now, Quistis is grateful for the opportunity to appreciate such a rare perspective in her small world.

Xu's eyebrows raise when Rinoa favours her with a hug as well but she says nothing, and Quistis hides a smile. It takes a determined sort of extrovert to ignore the seasoned veteran's well-sharpened prickles.

"You also look fabulous, but you always do. Thank you so much for coming," Rinoa compliments Xu with more restraint than she lent Quistis. She gestures to the imposing black metal doors. "Let's go inside! We have so much to talk about." Looping her arm through Xu's, she leads the way, giving Quistis and Squall no choice but to follow in her energetic wake.

Squall nods his hello as he holds open the door, shoving his hair out of his eyes. Quistis isn't slighted by his reticence. They have spent a lot of time in each other's company the past while. He likely assumes pleasantries are not necessary. Still, as they wait in the confined entryway for the hostess to appear, listening to Rinoa and Xu make small talk, Quistis feels obligated to strike up some sort of conversation.

"Are you and Rinoa flying back to Deling in the morning?" she asks, tucking a heavy lock of hair behind an ear.

"No. Esthar," is Squall's low response. He shifts onto one hip. "We're returning Ragnarok."

"Oh, that's right. Are you staying awhile before heading to Galbadia? It would be wonderful to see Ellone again," Quistis continues, craning her neck to try to see around Xu. It appears the hostess remains absent from the reception area.

"We're not going to Galbadia. My fath- the President has offered me a position in Esthar."

This statement got Quistis' attention. "Really?" She frowns and speaks without thinking. "Do you think that's wise?"

"The President has assured us of his protection." It comes out as a sigh, as if he'd been anticipating an argument.

Quistis holds Squall in her gaze, forgetting they might be overheard in her concern. "I'm sure he has, but Esthar still has a very anti-Sorceress policy, domestically and internationally. Not to mention the close presence of Odine lurking in every corner. I know Deling isn't ideal but it's a much safer option. Don't forget what happened the last time the Estharian government had Rinoa in its power."

Deep lines appear between Squall's eyebrows. "Things are different now."

"I really hope so." Quistis is about to say more when they are jostled by departing customers.

She swings her upper body to the right to prevent a large shoulder from smacking her in the face. As she moves, she sees Squall bend to avoid an errant elbow jutting into his stomach. As a third oblivious member of the unfamiliar party passes waving his arms in the air, the former SeeDs duck in concert. For her part, Quistis extends a foot, toppling the man into the metal bar between the open doors. His startled cry has Squall turning to her with a nod of approval. She inclines her head in reply, grateful she escaped wearing heels.

Moments later, Rinoa turns around and gestures that their table is ready. Something else to be grateful for, Quistis thinks.

Upon entering the wide, modern interior, she discovers the restaurant is really more of a bar than a place she'd anticipate finding a memorable meal. The walls are black, decorated only with long silver mirrors. The tables are also black, paired with silver stools. The music is electric, but low. Given the early hour, and the increasing vibe, she expects this will change. As will the number of diners, Quistis muses while gazing around. There are already quite a few milling at the high tables in sizable quantities.

While a SeeD, she prided herself on adapting to any situation she encountered while executing a mission, whether in brothels or penthouses owned by aristocrats – more often than not the two weren't mutually exclusive. Off-duty Quistis, apparently, is less resilient. It is not the sort of environment in which she would choose to find herself on a typical evening. A quiet corner pub with hidden alcoves is a lot more her style. This place is an airy warehouse, with a false sort of glitz that is more suited to Deling than Balamb. The large space could fill a banquet of hundreds. No doubt the cocktail prices will make her choke. She wishes she had ignored Xu and worn her glasses. It would be nice to have some armour.

They reach a high table in the middle of the room, and Rinoa says a few words to the young hostess, nodding with satisfaction. Xu exchanges a glance with Quistis and tilts her head toward the bar with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, letting her friend know she is already in need of a round.

"Drinks, anyone?" Xu asks before they all sit down. "I want to befriend the bartender, make sure he doesn't send over watered-down swill."

"I'll come with you," offers Squall, running a gloved hand through his too-long dark hair. "The usual, Rin?"

"Yes, please." Rinoa smiles at her boyfriend then watches him walk over to the bar area behind Xu before sliding up onto a low-backed stool with more grace than Quistis has ever observed in the younger woman.

Once the two are gone, Rinoa leans forward in her seat. "It really is good to see you again, Quisty. I missed everyone a lot when I was stuck in Deling. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here to help close Garden." The long silver necklace she wears taps against the metal table.

"It's okay. You were better off, I've no doubt." Quistis tries to relax back on her own stool but finds it impossible to do so without tumbling off. "Though, we've missed you as well. Your optimism was sorely needed. Squall says you are heading to Esthar tomorrow?"

"Yes, thank the gods. As far away from that man as possible," answers Rinoa with a little shudder. "I am so glad Squall accepted Laguna's job offer. I really hope this is a chance for him to get to know his father better."

"Yes, it's lovely he will be close to his family," Qusitis begins. She gives up on the idea of comfort and hooks her feet into the bottom rung of the tall chair. She supposes the stools at least force one to maintain good posture. "Do you think you will like living there?" The question is hesitant. She knows she needs to tread with extreme caution.

"Absolutely!" Rinoa beams, tucking back her hair and showing off her long, sparkling earrings. "Just think of the shopping opportunities. It's exciting to be starting fresh somewhere new, don't you think?"

Before Quistis can respond, Squall and Xu return to the table, both carrying two glasses each. As the young man sets down his pair and slides the one containing an enticing red liquid over to Rinoa, she grabs his hand in hers.

"Laguna is super nice and letting us stay with him and Ellone in the palace until we can find our own place. I really can't wait." Rinoa smiles up at Squall and he, almost, smiles back before sitting down next to her. As much as he is capable of smiling in public anyway.

Xu doesn't say anything as she sets a glass down in front of Quistis. The expression on her face, however, speaks for her, and Quistis has to bite her lip to keep her from snorting into laughter. She turns back to Rinoa to reply to her happy comment, then reconsiders.

It is a touchy subject. Squall has never been interested in her opinion on personal matters and she doubts he cares much for her advice now. She knows her words of warning in the entryway did not go over well. The last thing she wants to do is offend, and she is hardly one who can place judgment, given her own situation. However, she also can't deny her concern and would feel worse if she didn't say anything at all. Quistis looks to Xu again for support. The other woman, unfortunately, is gazing around the restaurant, making it clear she is uninterested in the conversation.

Taking a sip of her drink, which tastes exactly like its colour - purple, Quistis faces the young couple with a smile. "It definitely sounds like you've got everything all planned out. I take it you aren't worried about the potential challenges?"

"No worse than Deling," Squall cuts in. He takes a sip of the clear liquid in his glass while shooting a glance at Rinoa. "She's locked up in her father's house there."

"I'm not worried at all," says Rinoa, before Squall has a chance to add anything further. She squeezes his arm and diverts his stare toward Quistis. "It's just like I told that man." She makes a face. "Squall will be there, and his father with his entire military. You'll even be there too, right Quisty? I couldn't be more protected!"

"Wait, what?" At last, Xu's attention snaps back to the discussion. She spins on her stool and rests her palms against the edge of the table. "Quistis isn't going to Esthar. She's going to G Garden," she corrects, fine brows meeting over her nose.

"Oh." Rinoa darts a surprised glance at Squall, who sits back in his seat in his own mild gesture of confusion. "Squall told me that Laguna offered you a position in the Presidential Guard. Is that not true?"

Three sets of eyes swivel to Quistis. She feels the adiposity of their expectation and consternation settle on her forehead. Biting the inside of her cheek, she brushes back her hair and sits tall on the stool as she tries to think of the most diplomatic response to the sudden interrogation. To her heavy relief, she is saved from answering by a high-pitched trill beckoning behind Rinoa's back.

"Woooo-hooooo! Let's get this party started! Selphie and Irvy have arrived!" Selphie rushes up to their table with her much taller boyfriend strolling not too far behind. She does a few spins to show off the flowing sparkle of her gauzy yellow dress. Rinoa and Quistis rise to applaud and admire as obliged.

"Oh my gosh, you guys," Selphie exclaims, reaching up with both arms to hug the two taller women at the same time. "I am so sorry we are so late. Argh! It's all Irvy's fault."

"Naturally," replies Quistis. She pulls back from the embrace and gives the offending male a wink. "We assumed as much."

He grins in response and slides onto the stool beside Xu. "Sorry all. I just couldn't decide what shoes to wear."

"Actually?" Selphie goes on, hands on her hips while she surveys the group to ensure she has everyone's focus. "It's Zell's fault more than anything."

"Zell?" Rinoa asks, slipping back into her seat and patting the chair beside her to invite Selphie to jump up. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I have no freaking clue," declares Selphie, dumping her evening bag on the table in front of her. "As soon as we got here he ran off with a waitress somewhere. No idea what's gotten into that boy's head."

"Really?" Quistis laughs, taken aback. She leans over the table to look at Irvine. "What's that about? Is he channelling his inner Kinneas?"

"Apparently? He says that now he's not a SeeD and doesn't have to be a – how did he put it, sweetie?"

"A 'Pilar of the Community," answers Irvine, leaning back on his stool with a toss of his long ponytail.

"Right," Selphie goes on. "Now that he doesn't have to be a 'Pilar of the Community' he is throwing aside his morals and getting some action before the night is over." She lifts her hands and widens her perfectly lined eyes. "Don't. Ask. Me."

Quistis is baffled. "Good luck to him, I suppose."

Evidently bored with the discussion, Xu seems unable to resist teasing her former colleague. She cocks her head and watches Squall with pure impishness. When he looks away to murmur something to his girlfriend, she picks up the glass in front of him and takes a sip.

"Bleeech, what is this? Club soda? Plain club soda?" Wrinkling her nose, she pushes the glass back at him. "Oh, Leonhart, you are such a sad case."

Squall turned his head to glare. "I told you, we have an early flight. I don't want to be hungover."

"Right, sure. Whatever you say." Xu rolls her eyes and dismisses him to address Quistis. "Somebody is afraid of finding out he actually has a personality underneath all that leather."

As if sensing things could turn ugly, Rinoa laughs at the older woman's teasing. "Hey, that's not fair. Squall has a personality. It just can't always keep up with him."

Squall shifts his glare over to his girlfriend, tension working in his stiffened jaw, as Xu and several other members of the party snicker.

Rinoa gives him a playful smile in reply then rubs his shoulder. "Sorry, babe. I couldn't resist. You don't have to drink to prove anything to me."

"Fine," he concedes on a long sigh. He stands and shoves his hands in his coat pockets. "Can I get anyone else something?" The question is directed to the wall.

"Don't they have table service here?" asks Selphie, glancing around. The seats on both sides of their table have filled in the short time that has passed since they sat down.

Rinoa nods. "They sure do. But we haven't seen anyone come by yet."

"I'd like something green, please!"

Squall looks at Selphie with one brow raised. "Green?"

"I like to colour code my drinks."

"I'll join you," Irvine tells Squall, rising. "I want to make sure you don't wuss out again, ya teetotaler."

When the two have left, Selphie perches next to Rinoa with her sandaled feet dancing in the air above the rung. She leans forward on her elbows, the table high on her petite torso. "So. What did I miss?"

"I believe," Xu drawls, taking the last swallow of her drink then nudging the glass away. "We were inquiring as to Quistis' future employment." She appraises the woman next to her. Quistis feels rather than sees the calculating focus of her gaze.

There will be no escaping without an explanation.

"What do you mean?" Selphie tilts her head. "Quisty's coming with me n' Irvy to Trabia, isn't she?" Allowing her body to angle into Rinoa's space, she steals a sip of the other woman's drink while dodging her joking attempts to knock her away. "I saw the offer letter from the Headmaster. He was pretty stoked."

"Trabia?" A loud and familiar voice calls over the growing buzz from the other customers. Three heads flick up to where Zell stands at the end of the table, chest thrust out, hands on his hips. Even in the odd shadows cast by the glittering chandelier above their heads, Quistis spies a ragged cut lining his bare cheek. "I thought you were staying with me in Balamb." It was the voice of a wounded puppy.

"Um..." she begins, feeling inelegant and exposed with so many of her friends staring at her. The gurgle of guilt returns to her stomach. She resists the urge to fidget like a child and lifts her chin. "Given so many generous offers, I actually haven't quite decided yet."

The table remains silent. Now Quistis does fidget. She crosses her legs and bites her lip, unable to meet anyone in the eye.

"Menus?" Another voice cuts in, more irritated and abrupt than the last. A young woman, who Quistis presumes to be their server, tosses several clipboards on the table. Curling her bright purple lip in Zell's direction, she stomps away and disappears into the crowd around the bar.

"Wow," says Selphie, eyes wide. "I hope she's not expecting a tip."

Rinoa appears to smother a smile. "The food here is supposed to be amazing, even if the service isn't. The head chef owns two really popular restaurants in Deling. This is her first attempt at casual fare."

After watching the server depart, Zell sighs and lifts himself onto the seat beside Selphie. Like hers, his feet dangle high above the floor.

"What happened to your face, Dincht?" asks Xu, jerking her chin in the defeated-looking man's direction. As she does so, she also pokes a finger into Quistis' thigh, a warning that their interrupted conversation is not over.

"I assume it's the outcome of his attempt to 'hit it and quit it," Squall speaks up in a wry voice, approaching the table with another glass in his hand, the liquid as suspiciously clear as the last.

Everyone laughs, more related to the unexpected words coming out of the former commander's mouth than any humour at Zell's expense. Still, Quistis watches as Rinoa gives Squall a warning glance and nudges his arm with her shoulder.

"Dude has no game," says Irvine, after handing Selphie a glass filled with a fizzy cocktail the alarming colour of chartreuse. He lazes back into his seat across from her at the table.

"Hey!" Zell protests. He punches a fist on the table and glares at the other male. "I have game. I'm just out of practice, that's all. Unlike you, I was trying to be a good role model to the cadets."

"I don't know, Zell. From what I've seen of your 'game', it's mostly pretty creepy," says Selphie. She scrunches her nose and shudders. "The way you were stalking that poor library girl? You totally give women the heebie-jeebies."

Before he is able to lash out at the brunette in retaliation, most likely with violence, Rinoa leans over the table to send him a sympathetic smile. "I think what Selphie means is that sometimes you might come on too strong. Maybe instead of worrying about 'game' you should try befriending the woman you are interested in."

"It wouldn't hurt," Xu comments. "Women know when all you want is sex."

"Hey, some women are into that," says Irvine, stretching his arms above his head.

"Indeed," she agrees, a smile curving her lips. "But not the kind of women Dincht has a chance with."

The skin of Zell's neck is an ugly shade of red. He now has both fists on the table. "I'll take that as an insult."

Irvine smiles, adjusting his hat. "And I'll take it as a compliment."

"You're both wrong," corrects Quistis. She rolls her eyes at Irvine then holds Zell within a steady gaze. "Rinoa makes an excellent point. Women are much more likely to be responsive if you treat them like fellow human beings and come from a place of respect."

Zells hands unclench, and he scratches the back of his head. "I respect women. Don't I respect all of you?"

"Sure, Zelly!" Selphie pipes up. "Because you're not trying to sleep with us. But when you try to hit on someone you get all weird and send out really icky, creepo vibes."

"As soon as you see a woman as an object instead of as a person." Quistis reiterates and the other three females at the table nod in agreement. She crosses her legs and lifts a hand. "I think you'll find this addvice will prevent future face-slapping incidents."

Mouth open and head cocked, Zell ponders the insight. "Huh," is all he emits as he crumples his face into an expression of deep thought. Irvine snickers at him from across the table but the other man doesn't seem to notice.

It is Rinoa who then re-takes control of the group and asks if they would all like to order food. Selphie dives for the nearest menu like a ravenous Torama and starts listing off every item that appeals to her empty stomach. In other words, every single item written on the legal-sized piece of paper, along with witty personal commentary, of course.

"Hmm, what does everyone think of beef tataki? It comes with a ponzu butter sauce. No idea what ponzu is. Sounds yummy! But fish roe? Isn't that kinda gross? I don't know... Maybe the short ribs would be better? Or the spin dip? But that is soooo eight years ago. How about pot stickers? I had the ones at Local 27 and they were dee-licious. I think I ate at least 18."

"Holy Hyne, Selphie, could you be any more annoying? Please, please stop talking," pleads Zell, grabbing another menu. "Do you think they have hot dogs?"

Beyond bored with the direction of the dialogue, Xu slips off her stool and angles her head back toward the bar. "As the service here is less than stellar, it seems I will have to get my own drink re-fill. Would anyone else like anything?

"I'll have a beer, thanks."

"Another cosmo, please."

"Anyone else? Leonhart?" The name is drawled with elongated vowels.

"I'll come with you," Quistis offers, standing. She rolls her shoulders. "I could use a walk."

They are steps away when Quistis hears Zell growl, "The hell is HE doing here?" She is about to turn back to see to whom her friend is referring when she is interrupted by Xu.

"I don't know how you do it, Quis. Individually, fine, but as a group? Fuck. Especially when you get Dincht and Tilmitt together. Bloody hell," Xu is saying as they dodge a hustling server. Her navigation of the gathering crowd is masterful. It is as if people shift aside on instinct. A space at the bar materializes the moment she arrives.

"They can be loud, yes," allows Quistis, squeezing in next to her friend. "But they are family. When you know people your whole life you forgive their faults. As they forgive mine."

"Fair enough." Xu taps her fingers on the black granite counter as she tries to catch the attention of a bartender. Making eye contact with a red-haired man currently muddling mint leaves, she smiles and signals him over. Her smile vanishes and eyes narrow, however, when she turns back to her friend. "Hopefully not everyone you've known your whole life."

"What do you mean?" Quistis asks, confused by the abrupt change in her friend's demeanour. She is having a difficult time focusing. It is hard for her to conceptualize the idea that she won't be returning to her quiet Garden dorm once the night is over. For all intents and purposes, she is homeless. Without place, without vocation, and without a plan. While she had known this day was coming, she had not thought she would feel so adrift. Far from helping her make a decision, the aimless floating sweeps her further out to sea.

Xu rolls her eyes and juts her chin to indicate the source of her ire to Quistis' left. If possible, the shorter woman's eyes slit even further, and a sneer mars the smooth lines of her face. Bewildered, Quistis rotates on a flat booted heel and finds herself staring at the profile of the last person she would expect to see at a place like this.

"Seifer." The name comes out before she can stop herself.

The man looks over at the sound of her voice and does a double-take. Despite standing right beside her, he clearly hadn't anticipated seeing her there either. He looks out of place against the modernist backdrop of the bar, the way he always has to her in any location that isn't a field site or battle ground. In a long black jacket and snug-fitting t-shirt, he certainly plays the part of normal guy at a trendy club well. If it wasn't for the angry scar on his forehead, he might even get away with it.

"Instructor," he acknowledges, relaxing against the bar. Crossing his arms over his wide chest, he leans forward to whisper in her ear. "Blink three times if you're here against your will."

Without thinking, Quistis laughs, causing Seifer's eyebrows to lift. She shifts her hair out of her eyes and lends him a teasing smile. "Why, are you going to rescue me from my evil captors?"

"Hell, no!" Seifer snorts. "More like buy them a drink. Anyone capable of kidnapping you and getting you into a bar is someone I'm not fucking with." He drags his languid gaze down her body in as obvious a manner as he can get away with. When his eyes travel back up to meet hers they are amused. "I should've known it was you. I'd recognize that ass anywhere. Come here often?" His smirk switches on at full power, right on cue.

Quistis decides to ignore his typical disgusting behaviour. He only does it to get a rise out of her anyway. She hears Xu speaking with the bartender behind her and straightens her shoulders. It won't kill her to play nice for a little while.

"How have you been?" she asks. "I thought we'd see you this morning at breakfast."

"Oh yeah, right, that's my fucking scene. Eating week-old eggs and getting all butt hurt over the end of Garden with a bunch of self-entitled assholes who hate my guts and blame me for the collapse of their pathetic little worlds." He runs a hand over his short blond hair and leans into her space once more. "I'll pass. But thanks for the concern. Warms my heart to know you care."

"What is your fucking scene, Almasy?" Xu interupts with a sweet voice. She pushes away from the bar and moves to stand between the two. "Other than detention rooms and prison cells, are there any places you do fit in?"

Seifer's face darkens as his eyes light on the older female. His smirk folds into a scowl. "Can't go anywhere without your babysitter, can you, Instructor? Think one day she might cut your leash, let you play with the mutts in the park?"

There is something in his wary expression that holds Quistis' tongue. A flicker of more than just aggravation or the dangerous glint she most often finds there. The black of his clothing sets off the lightness of his hair and skin in the glittering light. Perhaps it is the odd shadows cast by the bright bulbs, but she gets the feeling Seifer is not up to their usual games. It occurs to her now that he may be the only other person in the world equally troubled by Garden's closure.

"Speaking of lap dogs," says Xu with a broad grin. She folds her arms and adjusts her weight onto one hip. "Shouldn't you be shovelling shit in a Deling sewer right now? I could have sworn I saw a letter of reference for you on Cid's desk. I thought you'd be a shoe-in for the sanitation job."

"I could do worse," replies Seifer, shrugging a single shoulder. "Better than selling out to hypocritical fucktards who fill their greasy fat pants with cash raised from the rape and torture of civilians by ten year old soldiers who don't even know their dicks from their swords and wet the bed every fucking night."

Her smile fades. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I gotta say, I was surprised when I heard you were going to G Garden," he goes on. "But I guess you've never had a soul. And, unlike Trepe, job offers haven't been pissing on your head."

"I've done well enough. Leading the largest military institution in the world is nothing to be ashamed of."

The bartender clears his throat. Since Xu is otherwise occupied, Quistis uses the opportunity to slide away from yet another pointless argument with Seifer Almasy and pulls out her card to pay for the beverages.

"They always like that?" asks the twenty-something man behind the bar.

"You have no idea." Quistis smiles and shrugs. "This is actually friendly for them." She bites her lip and hesitates, wondering how she will have the strength to get through the night. "On second thought, can you add a shot of tequila to the order?"

He chuckles, dimples winking in both cheeks. "Will do. Just one?"

Looking over at Seifer and Xu who are standing in each other's faces spitting venom, she sighs. "Maybe make it two."

"Sounds like a plan." The bartender laughs again and fills two shot glasses, sliding them across the bar. "If you need anything else, just let me know. We keep the tranquilizers and cattle prods in the back."

"I might have to take you up on that," replies Quistis with a sigh and a self-deprecating smile. She sips from one of the shot glasses then decides to just dash it back. It can't hurt, at this point. She winces a bit as the alcohol sears its way down her throat but manages not to cough. "You could end up being my saviour."

"It would be my honour and pleasure," he cocks his head and holds out a hand. "Sabir."

"Quistis," she responds, crinkling her eyes into a brighter smile as she shakes his hand. The bartender is kind of cute, she realizes for the first time. It's in a boyish kind of way, with messy red hair and lightly freckled skin, but still. She is surprised she didn't notice how engaging his deep blue eyes were before. The evening is looking up. "I will likely be seeing you again very soon."

"Only if I'm lucky," he says with a grin, releasing her hand.

When the bartender turns away to help waiting customers, Quistis swivels to re-enter the battle between Seifer and Xu, only to notice they are both staring at her like she has morphed into a Blobra.

"Quistis?" A slow smile oozes over Xu's face. "Were you flirting with the bartender?"

"What? No, no. Not really." Sweeping back her hair, Quistis tries to pretend she doesn't feel the heat gathering at the base of her neck. "It was just friendly conversation."

Seifer folds his arms and smirks, seeming to take immense pleasure from her embarrassment. "Like the Trepe would know how to hit on a guy. First base with her is when you don't get frostbite from holding her hand."

"Hilarious, Almasy. Wouldn't you like to know?" Xu defends her friend, hands moving to her hips. "Alas, you are doomed to a lifetime of wet dreams."

"Xu!"

"I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Seifer sneers in retaliation. A cruel flicker mars the green in his eyes. "Quistis is more likely to fuck me than-"

"Enough!" The flush had crept up to Quistis' cheeks at this point, and Seifer's words were only making it worse. To save herself from further humiliation, she picks up the remaining shot glass and shoves it in his hand. "You. Drink this," she orders before reaching over to lift the tray of full glasses arranged by Sabir the bartender and handing it to Xu. "And you, take these."

Turning back to Seifer, she points in a distant direction on the other side of the restaurant. "You, go that way. And you, Xu, you go this way," she finishes, directing her friend back to their table. "All right?"

Seifer looks unimpressed but doesn't say anything. He smirks at Xu, downs the tequila, then wanders off in the opposite direction Quistis had prompted.

"I don't condone murder, but in his case, I'd make an exception," comments Xu as she watches him saunter away.

Qustis sighs. She knows the feeling is mutual. "Hopefully you won't have to run into each other anymore." With a shake of her head, she moves away from the bar.

"Hey, where are you going?" Xu calls after her, but Quistis doesn't stop, merely waves a hand backwards in the air.

"I need a minute!"

Relieved to not receive any further questions, and even more to not be followed, Quistis strides toward the women's restroom, dodging wide trays of servers and jockeying elbows of heedless fellow patrons without personal damage.

She delays in a stall for as long as she can, chin in hands. Sitting down had forced her to acknowledge the startling level of her rapid intoxication. Or perhaps that was when she had tried to stand and the room fell down around her. This is not how she prefers to appear in public, like a silly teenager with a fake I.D. She decides it is definitely time to slow down, gulp some water, and plan an escape back to the beckoning hotel room. That is, once the walls stop bobbing up and down like Zell taking practice punches.

Righting herself with improved control over her body, she finishes in the stall and steps out, only to encounter a solemn-faced Rinoa pushing open the silver restroom door. Heavy electric beats crescendo until the closing door muffles the sounds outside once more.

"Oh! Hi, Rin. How's it going?"Quistis turns on the tap at one of the black-tiled sinks and glances at her younger friend in the mirror through a shaft of fallen hair. She hopes she is managing to appear soberer than she feels. With her wobbly vision it is hard to tell.

The other woman leans back along the counter next to her and doesn't return her smile. She tilts her head before asking, "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course," answers Quistis, thinking more of her need for a cool drink of water than Rinoa's request. Providing an ear and dispensing sympathy and advice is almost reflexive. All part of the big sister role she trapped herself into playing years ago. Not that she is complaining, exactly.

Stepping over to the hot air dryer, she misses the sound of Rinoa locking the restroom door. But when she turns back around, she is surprised to see her friend standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips.

"I need you to talk to Squall, tell him you were wrong, and that you fully support us moving to Esthar," states Rinoa, eyebrows lowering so there are two sweeps of chestnut visible beneath her darker bangs and above the pale skin of her nose. Quistis hasn't seen her look this determined since a long ago day involving an enchanted bracelet and a secret passageway.

"I don't know if I can do that," she replies, biting her lip and pushing back her hair. What she wouldn't give for a clip right now. She tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and rolls back on her heels. "Because it isn't true. I do think you'd be safer almost anywhere else. The continued government sponsorship of Dr. Odine's research alone is deeply concerning. Have you considered Trabia, or perhaps Dollet, instead?"

"Dollet?" Rinoa wrinkles her nose and gives an emphatic shake of her head. "No. Look, Quisty, I appreciate the fact that you care? But I've been arguing about this with Squall for, like, a million years. I really don't want to go through it all again." Raising her arms, she folds her hands into fists and holds them shoulder-height. "I am not living with that man anymore and Squall is not going to work for a death machine. We are getting as far away from that hell as we can."

Taken aback by the hard look in her friend's eyes, Quistis widens her own and flattens her hands along the front of her thighs. "I'm sorry if I overstepped, Rinoa. I just worry for your safety. Where you live is entirely your prerogative."

"Thank you," concedes Rinoa with a small nod. Her fists loosen as she turns away to study her reflection in the restroom mirror. Wiggling to adjust her dark blue mini-dress, she purses her lips. "So you will tell Squall we have your blessing?"

This makes Quistis chuckle. "I doubt I have much influence over his decisions."

"You have a lot actually," says Rinoa as she leans over the sink to check her eyeliner. "Squall thinks very highly of your opinion. You're his old teacher and practically his big sister. He's already changed his mind about Esthar again because of you."

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Quistis's fair hair and skin hover ghost-like over Rinoa's shoulder.

"If that's true, as his former instructor and big sister I don't know if I can lie to him. He'd see through it anyway."

On a long sigh, Rinoa shifts back from the glass then begins digging in the tiny evening bag that dangles from her shoulder to her hip. She bends back toward the mirror, lip gloss in hand. "Then you'll just have to be creative. Apologize, say it's none of your business, which it isn't, and tell him you support whatever we think is best for us." Satisfied with her make-up, she tucks the pink tube back in her bag and spins to face the other woman. "Can you do that?"

Quistis lifts a single eyebrow. "I suppose I could."

"Fabulous!" Rinoa is all beaming smiles now. Anger mollified, she claps her hands and darts forward to grip Quistis in a tight hug. "If you could do it right now, that would be amazing. He's already asked Nida to fly Ragnarok back for him tomorrow morning instead."

"Nida?" asks Qusitis as she's tugged out the restroom door. "I didn't know he was here."

The only response she receives is a weird squinty-eyed look. When Rinoa tries to pull her in the direction of their table, she hesitates. "Can I have a second? I would like to get some water."

To her substantial gratification, Rinoa acqueisces to this request, though with obvious reluctance. The younger woman releases her arm but gives her a look filled with warning and dire consequences before departing.

Watching her younger friend wind her way around the large and vibrating crowds, Quistis shakes her head and then her arms, as if unburdening Rinoa's uncharacteristic behaviour with a few jerks. If only she could have avoided going out tonight, she thinks, everyone would be much happier. She raises her chin and straightens her shoulders, rolling them under her leather jacket, and turns toward the bar. Her intentions are pure. There will be a chance to fulfil her promise to Rinoa later, she is sure. At the moment, she has other priorities.

The crowd pressed up to the long granite counter has thickened since her last visit. Above and between the heads and waving wrists of impatient customers, she spots the hurried movements of several uniformed bartenders, sliding gleaming bottles off shelves and pouring kaleidoscopic slushy drinks out of canisters. Music from the restaurant speakers is drowned out by a cacophony of laughter, ice hitting glass, shouted orders, and bottle openers. Quistis can't help but be struck by the orchestration of it all. The men and women behind the bar maneuver like tentacles, stretching around to grab glasses and cocktail shakers without getting in anyone else's way. Their movements are swift, proficient, and remind her of comrades in battle. Teamwork like this, she knows, takes practice and collective dedication to a goal. Watching them causes a rush of sadness she doesn't want to dwell on.

Eventually, she spots the twinkling eyes of Sabir the bartender looking right at her beyond the crush of jostling patrons. It is impossible to hold back a smile to match the one growing on his face. He shouts something to her that she can't quite discern over the discord of banter, blenders, and bass guitar. She holds up her hands in supplication, and he tries again, pointing at himself and then her with a question in his gaze. Quistis mouths the word water in reply, moving a hand in front of her to mimic a wave.

He seems to understand immediately as he narrows his eyes and sags his shoulders in a sign of immense disappointment, making her laugh. She holds the palms of her hands together and attempts a beseeching attitude. This time he laughs, but gives in, reaching into the cooler behind him for a bottle of water. Unsure how to get it to her, he glances around and then mimes throwing it, lifting his brows as if asking permission, or perhaps, whether or not she will be able to catch it.

If he had been a fellow SeeD, she would have been offended, even incensed. Mercenaries from Balamb Garden who aren't able to catch a potion thrown mid-battle from more than five times the distance between her and Sabir now have short careers indeed. More than confident in her abilities, she nods and holds up her right hand, snagging the bottle out of the air with ease after it soars over the heads of the people between them.

Quistis mouths her sincere thanks then holds the cold plastic to her heart. "My saviour!" she calls.

Sabir laughs in reply and adopts a super hero stance. She waves to take her leave and he folds into a debonair bow, making her break into laughter once more.

Okay, so maybe she was flirting with the bartender, she admits to herself as she walks back toward the group table, just a little. But what is the harm? He is adorable, and she is single, and for the first time in her life she doesn't owe anyone anything. Her time and how she spends it is up to her alone. Besides, it is also kind of nice to be flirted with in return. Like a normal woman more accustomed to wine bars and walks in the park than week-long dragon hunts and fermented Cactaur juice. Which, incidentally, is better than most wine she's tried.

She hesitates a few metres from the group's table. Unscrewing the lid from her water, she observes her friends. Xu is nowhere to be seen but Irvine, Selphie, Rinoa, and Squall are all seated and having what looks to be a confidential chat. There are large platters of appetizers between them, and the moment her eyes inform her stomach of this information it rumbles, reminding her she hasn't eaten since breakfast. Undecided on her next direction, she sips her water. The cold liquid soothes the back of her throat and clears her muddled head. No doubt she is more than welcome to join the group of four. They might even be wondering where she is.

Something holds her back. It could be the palpable intimacy making her feel abnormally shy. They all appear too absorbed in conversation to look up and see her there. It would be easier if Xu or Zell were seated as well. She would feel less of an interloper. Yet these people are some of her closest friends, more like family, though even deeper than that word can imply. There is little, if anything, they have not shared.

She is saved from screwing up her courage by Zell's excited voice at her elbow. "Hey, Quisty! Can you do me a favour?"

Quistis turns to regard him with a careful expression. The young man looks nervous. Dressed not in his usual board shorts and t-shirt, but in actual pants that could be tailored, and a bright blue shirt that matches his eyes and enhances his not-unimpressive upper body, he appears more put together than she's ever seen him. Despite his short stature, and even with the wild hair and tattoo, he could be seen as very attractive. A part of her has to resist an urge to reach out and ruffle his blond head. Her baby brother is all grown up.

"That depends," she says. "What do you need?"

"There's this girl, over there, and I don't know what to say," Zell replies, flushing a little. "Will you be my wingman?"

Her caution was justified. She holds the half-empty bottle to her warm forehead and closes her eyes. "Isn't that more a job for Irvine?"

"I already asked him. He just laughed at me," he says, voice full of dismay. Running a hand through his hair, he starts to bounce on the balls of his feet, which is not as easy to do in black dress shoes. "And I asked Nida, but he's worse than me and the girl threw her drink in our faces. Stupid jerk."

"When did Nida get here?" This was the second surprising reference to the former pilot of Balamb Garden, a man she hasn't seen tonight and didn't know had been invited. While a capable SeeD, he isn't someone they socialized with on a regular basis as far as she knew.

Zell stopped bouncing and screwed up his face. "Uh, he's been here all night. Kind of rude of you not to notice. You know how sensitive he is about that."

"I didn't..." She allows her voice to trail off, shaking her head. It isn't an important enough subject over which to argue. "Never mind. Anyway, I'm sorry but I can't be your wingman."

"Awww, why not? C'mon, please?"

"I wouldn't even know how!" Rolling her eyes, she takes another long drink of water. The hydration is much needed.

"You're a girl so you know how to talk to other girls. It's easy for you! I just can't go up to her alone. Please?" Taking her silence for assent, Zell grabs her arm and pulls her through the crowd toward a darker section of the restaurant.

"For starters," says Quistis, "you could call her a woman instead of a girl. That would help."

"Woman, okay, got it," he confirms, though he doesn't slow down or release his hold on her bicep. As she gets dragged past tables and more laughing groups of people, she realizes it's not going to be possible to get out of this. Now she wishes she'd asked Sabir for a real drink.

What a bizarre night this is turning out to be, she muses. Zell must be desperate if he is turning to Quistis Trepe for dating support. Seifer would die laughing if he knew.

And on that note, she thinks, what happened to Seifer anyway? Did he leave the restaurant? It would almost have been nice to try to talk to him more, gauge his emotional status. If she is honest, she feels guilty for being too wrapped up in her own grief to think of how Garden's closure would affect him. It's upsetting to think she missed one last opportunity connect with her former student. Who knows when she will see him again? There is so much she wishes she could have done.

Zell comes to a halt and releases her arm, disrupting her ruminations.

"How do I look?" Turning to Qusitis, he adjusts his shirt and then runs a hand over the top of his hair to ensure it remains appropriately spiky. He gives her an anxious smile. "Do you think I have a chance?"

"You look great, Zell. Really." Her returning smile is genuine. "Any woman would be flattered by your interest." It isn't a lie. Zell is a sweet guy when he is comfortable enough to be himself, she knows. A bit awkward, perhaps, but his earnestness has a certain sort of charm on its own.

"Thanks, Quisty." He heaves a relieved sigh. "Okay, she's over there, at the bar. No, don't look!"

"If I don't look, how am I supposed to approach her?"

"Okay, you can look now," he whispers, as if the woman could hear ten metres away in all the noise. "But make it really fast."

Pretending to gaze about the room, Quistis turns her head and catches sight of a slight young woman with rainbow-coloured hair sitting alone at the corner of the bar. It is safe to assume she is the recipient of her friend's interest. Glancing back at Zell, she sees a look of panic contort his features.

"Crap! She saw you looking! I'm screwed." His shoulders fall in dejection. "There's no way I can talk to her now."

"No chickening out," she urges, voice bright. This time, she is the one who takes his arm to pull him toward the bar. When he doesn't budge, she lets go and walks toward the woman on her own, hoping he will eventually follow. "Boys can be such cowards," she mutters.

Upon reaching the bar, Quistis decides there is nothing for it but to just to sit down and engage with the woman. She tries to think how she would prefer to be approached and figures sincerity is best.

"Hi," she begins, grabbing the younger woman's attention. "Is this seat taken?"

The woman's hazel eyes widen as she glances up. Her lips, which have been painted deep burgundy, curve into a small smile. "No, not at all. Please." She pulls out the stool next to her.

"Thanks," Quistis replies, smiling back. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Zell inching closer and she directs him into the stool with her eyes. To her chagrin, he takes the one beside it, forcing her to take the space in the middle. It is all she can do to hold back a sigh. Instead, she slips onto the seat and faces the woman onces more. "I'm Quistis, and this is my friend, Zell."

"It's really nice to meet you. I'm Rehka," she holds up a small, bejeweled hand in a wave. Her curly, brilliantly-hued hair bobs as she leans over the bar to include Zell in her warm greeting. The round glass in front of her is filled with wine the colour of her lips.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Rehka," says Quistis, nudging her friend with a foot when he remains silent. She struggles to think of what to say to draw him out. "I love your tattoo. It's absolutely beautiful. Zell and I were just taking about it before we came over."

"Wow, thanks!" Rehka gushes then holds out her bare arm to better display the illustration of a Mesmerize over her deltoid. "I love it too. I think they are such amazing creatures."

"It's a very good likeness," compliments Quistis, fibbing. "Have you seen one in person?"

The woman shakes her head. "Oh, no, I've never been to Trabia. Only in pictures. Have you?" Her voice is filled with awe.

"Er, yes, many times." She assumes it's best not to share more details than that. No point in disturbing the woman's illusions by talking about kill rates and the eerie blue colour of their blood. It is such an annoying stain to try to remove. "Zell has even ridden one!" The memory of her unfortunate comrade on the back of a bucking monster makes her giggle. "Remember?" Turning to the man beside her, she gives him a hard stare.

"Yep, that was great! You should really try it sometime..." His voice fades, and he rubs the back of his neck, gazing down at the granite counter.

"That is so so cool." Rehka sits back, taking a sip of wine. "Like, I would die if I even saw one in person."

Yeah, you probably would, Quistis thinks. Mesmerizes are temperamental beasts. Out loud she asks, "Have you always lived in Balamb?"

The other woman nods, placing her glass back on the bar. "My whole life. Never been off the island. Have you travelled a lot?" Her light eyes appraise Quistis and she shifts closer so that the hem of her long black skirt brushes her boot.

"Yes, Zell and I have been fortunate to explore several regions. I confess, I am a bit of a dunce when it comes to geography, but Zell could share many incredible stories."

The man in question directs his response to his feet. "Uh, yeah, the world is pretty awesome..."

"It really is," agrees Rehka. Moving closer still, she makes eye contact with Quistis then rests a hand on her thigh. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Quistis may be inept at romance but she has no doubt where the woman's greatest interest lies. Stunned and uncomfortable, she shoots an apologetic glance toward her friend before rising. She can't lead this innocent woman on any further. "I'm so sorry, I just remembered I am supposed to meet someone. It was really nice chatting with you, Rehka. Take care."

Striding away, she takes a quick look back to see Zell glaring at her. She mouths the word sorry but she isn't sure who she regrets leaving more. Zell with a disappointed Rehak, or Rehka with a tongue-tied Zell. Heading back toward the group table, she winces, once again remembering why she doesn't go out. This whole meat market situation is excruciating. How anyone meets anyone at a bar and forms a solid relationship, she doesn't know. She'd rather fight a Malboro.

Her wide stride is cut off by a server in a short skirt and obvious red wig. Quistis' reflexes stop her from running the petite woman over but only just in time.

"Are you Quistis?" asks the young woman, sounding bored.

"Yes."

"This is for you, then. From Sabir."

Quistis finds herself holding a martini glass containing a compelling, aqua blue liquid. Unless she misses her guess, it almost matches the colour of the bartender's eyes. "Thanks."

"Whatever."

The server's dismissive attitude is brushed off without a thought as Quistis takes a tentative sip of the drink. Her mouth is hit with an explosion of sweet, and then an undercurrent of something more dangerous. Strolling in an unknown direction, she contemplates the flavours on her tongue. She doesn't have enough experience with cocktails to guess at the ingredients. The drink is good, though, far too good. She reminds herself to take it slow. Her eyes wander to the bar but aren't able to locate her benefactor. Just as well, she rationalizes. It isn't as if she would know what to say to him anyway.

She makes it back to the table through random luck. Xu is the only one present now, a fact for which she is grateful. Her friend reclines against the metal back rest of her stool, in a position that conveys ownership of her space and the entire establishment. One tall heel hooks over the bottom rung and the other is swung against her opposite calf. Quistis thinks she has never looked more magnificent or formidable.

"Hey, there you are," the older woman greets her with a drawl and a lift of a brow. "Nice of you to show up."

"Please don't start, Xu," groans Quistis, somehow collapsing into the seat beside her. "Between Rinoa calling me out in the restroom and Zell entrapping me in his romantic efforts, it's been a rough night." Glad to be with a trusted confidant again, she slides her glass onto the table then rests her head on her arms. "Is the party over yet?"

Chuckling, Xu reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. "You're just low on solid calories. Gotta keep up your stamina. Here, eat some nachos."

The concept of food has Quistis raising her head. A frightening pile of tortilla chips covered in queso, peppers, and unidentifiable meat product all layered in a rusted metal bowl looms before her eyes. "Is that a tire rim?" Nonetheless, she is too hungry to be picky and sits up to sample a chip.

"There are also deep-fried Caterchipillar legs, if you're interested," offers the older woman, gliding one hand through the air to showcase the full display of delicious appetizers at their disposal. "Or perhaps some frog steak tataki?"

Nibbling on another cheese-smothered chip, Quistis frowns. "What, no boiled Geezard brains? The culinary world is really going downhill."

Xu laughs, setting an elbow on the table and parking a chin in her upright hand while she watches her friend poke at one of the insect legs. "You know it's bad when the food we resort to on missions becomes a gourmet trend."

"Don't knock Geezard brains," Quistis defends. "Add a little butter and some salt and pepper, they aren't bad. Very nutrient-dense."

"Better than anything you'll get here, I'm sure," agrees Xu. "Maybe you should open a restaurant." Holding one of the aforementioned frog steak pieces between a set of chopsticks, she attempts to appraise the rare protein from every angle. "I bet Leonheart ordered this."

The two women munch in silence for a few minutes, content with each other's companionship. When she grows tired of stale chips and canned cheese, Quistis nudges the tire rim away and picks up her forgotten glass. The unusual flavour floods her taste buds and dances over her tongue leaving pleasure inits wake. Imbibing more alcohol is unwise, she is aware, but she feels the need to do something with her hands. And it tastes better than anything else she's ever drank.

She turns to Xu with a sigh. "Where is Squall, anyway?"

Xu jerks her glossy black heard toward the dance floor. "Out there with the others. Apparently, it only takes two vodka tonics for him to loosen up. I wish I'd known that years ago."

"Squall is dancing?" Disbelief wars with relief for supremacy in her answering question. If she can escape before he returns, she hopes, perhaps she can get out of yet another tricky conversation. She can always leave him a voicemail message once she is free. That would satisfy her promise and prevent further dialogue in her inebriated state, which she notices is gaining in velocity after only a few more sips from her glass. She doesn't trust this unfamiliar version of herself. Already she is having thoughts she would never normally permit, allowing herself to react to challenges with more candour than she would usually dare. It is time to take her leave before... Well, just before.

"You holding up, Quis?" Xu's low voice breaks into her reverie. "Gonna make it?" When Quistis turns to meet her gaze, her friend's eyes are clouded with concern.

"I think, actually, it's time for me to go," she says, with practiced regret. "I know it's early, but I'm exhausted."

The other woman's dark eyes search hers for a moment, and she does her best to appear burnt out and distressed. Alas, subterfuge has never been her strongest skill, at least not among her friends, and Xu doesn't seem to buy her act. Leaning forward, she pats her knee. The light in her eyes shifts from worry into mischief.

"Nah, you just need hydrating. Hitting the wall is normal at this stage for a greenhorn. You'll get your second wind soon," she advises in the same offhand tone she used once when calming Quistis after an early failed Garden mission. She uncrosses her legs and raises her arms above her head in a stretch. "Besides, I can't leave until I've gotten that sexy bartender's phone number."

"I could go without you," protests Quistis, irritated. Gathering her hair together in one hand, she waves at the back of her neck with the other. The room is becoming far too warm with the massive number of people and increasing pace of the music. Everything around her seems to be speeding into allegro while she is stuck in andante. "Which bartender do you mean?"

"Please. You know exactly who I mean, the one with the red hair and massive shoulders."

"Sabir?" She blinks. "I wouldn't call him sexy, really. Attractive, yes, but with those freckles he's more..."

"Ha!" Her friend cut her off, triumphant. "I knew you were flirting with him!"

"Why, because I know his name?"

Xu sits back and crosses her arms, saying nothing. A smirk toys with the corners of her mouth.

"Even if I was, what's wrong with that? Especially if I got a free drink out of it," Quistis continues, nodding toward the near empty martini glass in front of her.

"Nothing is wrong at all. I couldn't be prouder," replies her friend, with true admiration lighting up her voice and complexion. "If I can get you laid tonight, I will consider it my greatest achievement."

"Whoa!" Quistis objects, holding up two hands. The annoyed frown between her brows deepens. "There is a huge difference between flirting and sleeping with someone. The latter is not happening."

"So you say now..." Xu teases. She takes her friend's glass off the table and drains the last gulp. Licking her lips, she nods in approval and appears to consider the liquid hitting her palette. "When was the last time you had sex, anyway?

"That is none of your business." Quistis wishes her voice sounded more determined and less stiff, like the prude she knows Xu thinks she is. It is so tedious to be treated like an inexperienced cadet all the time. Just because she doesn't talk about it or flaunt her sexuality, doesn't mean she doesn't have any.

"Oh, come on. Six months? A year?"

"I am not discussing this with you right now," she huffs, sliding her feet to the floor. Feeling the heat in the room, and on her cheeks and neck, rise to an unbearable level, she yanks off her jacket and chucks it on the back of the stool.

"Where are you going?" asks an amused Xu.

"Dancing, apparently." Throwing back her shoulders, Quistis traipses over to the small dance floor where the lights are dimmer. It isn't easy to stomp with so many drunk twenty-somethings in the way but her unreasonable anger forces her to try regardless. She doesn't know why she is feeling so irritated. Most of her ire is directed at Xu, and she can't quite account for it. Xu hasn't done or said anything out of the norm, but maybe that's part of the problem. She concludes that it doesn't matter.

If I am not allowed to leave, she fumes, then I am not responsible for the consequences. She vows not to turn down any opportunities for amusement or mayhem that come her way throughout the course of the rest of the night. There is a high probability she will end up doing something irrevocably stupid that she will hate herself for in the morning. It will be all Xu's fault, she decides. If she ends up in a dive bar signing karaoke, or worse, Xu will be to blame. She looks forward to accusing her friend after her inevitable loss of dignity.


	2. Part Two

_**Further disclaimers:**_ _The below scene between Quistis and Irvine was inspired by the amazing story authored by SissyHIYAH titled,_ _Huzzah!_ _I am sure you have read it. If not, what the heck are you doing here?_

" _Where the Wild Roses Grow" is owned by Premiere Music Group, lyrics by Nick Cave._

* * *

 **Part two**

Once Quistis arrives at the area in front of the stage, spotting her friends doesn't take long. With Irvine's tall, lean frame and uncommon hat, she finds him right away, and then sees Selphie spinning beside him, the glitter of her dress flaring out around her. The moment the younger woman catches sight of her charging up to them, she stops twirling and her mouth falls open.

"Oh my gosh! You guys! Quisty is here!" Selphie yells, then points and jumps up and down to get the others' attention. Not only do Squall, Rinoa, and Irvine turn to look at her, but every other dancer on the floor does as well. Quistis might be tipsy, but not enough to feel confident under so many open stares.

"Hey," says a voice behind her, sounding a lot like Xu. Startled, Quistis turns around. She hadn't realized her friend had followed her. It was nice of her to care, at least, she acknowledges. The older woman hates public displays of abandon as much as she does. If she's willing to put herself out there, she must be wanting to keep tabs on her.

Quistis is about to forgive her completely when Selphie shouts over the music once more, "Quisty AND Xu are coming to dance? Wow, this is like the best night ever!"

"It sure is!" Xu hollers in reply, then grabs Quistis' arm and pulls her forward into the fray.

While it is not true that Quistis Trepe does not dance, it is true that she does not dance in bars or to most modern music. They never taught club styles during her time at Garden so anything outside of the ballroom is far beyond her repertoire. Without a set of prescribed steps to follow, and without a partner to guide her, she has no idea what to do with her body parts. There is nothing she dislikes more than feeling out of her depth with no easy way to study or practice to improve. Thus, she avoids all scenarios where she might have to freestyle her movements.

Until now.

She's can't look any worse than Squall, right?

What is a person supposed to do with her arms? No way is she shimmying like that. Rinoa might be able to pull it off but Quistis would look like the world's worst stripper.

This is so silly. She can't even understand the words of the song. Is this supposed to be fun? All she is doing is sweating through her blouse and knocking into strangers.

It might be a bit fun. Everyone is smiling and laughing and no one seems to care that she is just kind of tapping her feet. Even Squall is looking upbeat as he sways his arms around.

Okay, if the moron behind her doesn't stop accidentally on purpose swinging his hand into her ass, she is going to laser eye him.

Is she getting the hang of this? Selphie is grinning at her so either she is much better than she thinks or atrocious and a secret video is being posted online at this exact moment.

That time was definitely not an accident.

Alas, before she can have the satisfaction of degenerating the groper, Irvine sidles up beside her. He nudges her arm and indicates a spot off the floor in a corner of the room. Intrigued and not minding the escape, she follows.

When they are out of the way of the hammered, pulsating crush, he bends to whisper in her ear, "Wanna get some air? I've brought something to help us both get through this."

Eyes wide, Quistis turns to him with a smile blooming over her patrician features. "Irvine, you are a genius. Why didn't you say something sooner?" She glances around for the nearest exit. "Words cannot convey how welcome air would be right now."

Grinning back, Irvine pats an upper pocket of his coat then swoops an arm down low. "Ladies first."

Ten minutes later, the two are seated outside on pieces of cardboard they managed to scrounge from a large bin behind the restaurant. The same bin hides them from view of the employee door. Now that it is dark, a damp chill from the ocean has crawled into the small city and spread into every alley. On instinct, Quistis shivers as the air wraps around the bare skin of her arms. She doesn't mind. The cool is heaven after the swampy heat inside. The rough sandstone wall abrades her back as she leans against it, accepting the pipe Irvine passes over.

Even though they are doing nothing wrong, Gyshall greens are not illegal in Balamb, she relishes the tiny rebellion from social norms. Admiring her booted legs stretched out before her, she lets herself sigh, smoke rippling from her parted lips. "This is seriously the best idea I've heard all day. I can't tell you how much I needed this."

"I reckoned so," he replies, giving her a gentle smile. "Can't say I didn't either. 'Course, Selph'll freak if she finds out where I am."

"I'll take your secret to the grave." Taking another hit from the pipe, she sighs again and hands it back. Not being a drinker, she imagines these outings must be extra challenging for Irvine. He never mentions it or complains about it, just goes along with whatever his girlfriend plans with the same laid-back demeanour with which he approaches life. It's so sweet and generous and patient, so different from everything she thinks she is.

"Have you ever wondered," she begins, tilting her head back to look up at the narrow strip of sky above the lane, "what it would be like to be in a relationship with a normal person?"

"What do you mean by normal? Like, someone who wasn't trained to kill by the age of twelve?" As he talks, the smoke from his lips glides into the air, mingling with hers.

"Mmmmm. Like a bank teller, or a pharmacist, someone who's never held a weapon."

"Can't quite picture how that would work." Chuckling, he crosses one long leg over the other along the ground. "'What did you do today, honey?' 'Well, I sent some letters, filed some reports, and had lunch with my boss, how about you sweetheart'"

Now Quistis laughs, picking up the game. "Well, I blew up a missile base, almost died in the explosion, then slept inside a dead snow lion. I am trying to remember if that was before, or after, I gave myself an enema to prevent dehydration."

Irvine snorts then starts to cough, having inhaled a bit too deeply during his friend's reply. Regaining his composure after a few seconds, he clears his throat. "I believe it was a BGH251F2 we slept in that time."

"Too right. I must be mixing up my missions."

"I did hear that Squall once climbed inside a dead female Behemoth to distract a male."

"Unverifiable rumour," says Quistis. "Male and female Behemoths are equally territorial. All it would have done is provoke a ferocious attack." She accepts the pipe once more for a final pull. "But since you brought up cross-dressing, there is another rumour about a misadventure you had with Zell in Timber. Any truth in that story?"

"Darlin', you know what happens on a mission is strictly classified."

Giggling, she rests her head on Irvine's shoulder. It would be so nice if they could stay this way for the rest of the night. Or the rest of their lives, come to think of it. For the first time in months she feels almost at peace. "What am I going to do without you, Irv?"

"I'll give you the name of my guy, don't you worry."

"That's not what I meant."

He wraps an arm around her shoulder after tucking his supplies back in his pocket. "I know. But, hey, that's what global communication's for. I hope you'll not disappear on us either."

"I'll try not to," is her honest reply. There have been no lies between them since that faraway adventure in Galbadia when she, Irvine, and Selphie had assumed it was the end. Fingers too human for the tasks they have been most often assigned start picking at a loose thread in the hem of her jeans. "Are you excited to start in Trabia?" When Irvine doesn't answer, she glances up. "Is that a no?

"Naw, I'm glad to be going with Selphie. It's where she needs to be. And I was lucky to get the job," he says, though a hint of a deeper story lingers in his quiet voice.

Quistis moves closer to his warmth and feels his gloved hand squeeze her arm. "Will you be teaching? You'll be great at it, I'm sure. Cadets engage with you very naturally."

"Naw," he says again, throat sounding tight even if his tone is casual. "I'll be leading the artillery team in Trabia Garden's defensive guard."

She knows her friend well enough now to understand when he is evading. Biting her lip, she ponders whether to leave him alone or press for more. This might be her last opportunity alone with him, she surmises, even if her conversational track record this evening has been terrible. "They are very lucky to have you," she starts. "But if you hadn't gotten the Trabia offer, what would you have done instead?"

"Well..." He shifts under her head and she sits up to give him space, though his arm slides loose around her waist. "Promise not to heckle?" At her encouraging nod, he continues. "I guess I thought I might like to try to write. Maybe journalism or free-lance or something. Get out of the sharpshooter game, y'know?"

"Irvine, that's amazing." Excited at the concept of a civilian career path for the kindest of her friends, she moves away from the wall to face him head-on, legs crossing underneath her on the cardboard. "You are the most observant and insightful person I know. It makes perfect sense. Have you written anything you'll let me read?"

He laughs now, as if relieved to have confessed and been accepted. "I don't know about that yet. It's just a thought, a dream that's been kicking around. I haven't had time, really, to try anything and probably won't for a while. Not a big deal."

"No, don't do that, don't act like it doesn't matter. If you want to write, it's what you should do."

"I don't know," he repeats with a shrug. Adjusting his hat, he tilts back his head. "No stars tonight, lights too bright even in little Balamb. Bet the viewing'll be better up north."

"Hey, no changing the subject." Quistis pokes him in the leg to regain his attention then ensnares his gaze within a firm one of her own. "You are nineteen years old, Irvine Kinneas, far too young to give up on a dream. Promise me you won't quit before you even try."

With a crooked smile, he inclines his head. "All right. But only if you swear you'll do the same."

It is her turn to laugh, though the timbre of her mirth is tempered with confusion. "Do I have unrealized aspirations to pursue?"

"I don't know. What do you want, Quis?"

The posed question is serious, and the mood between them alters into a minor key. Swallowing, she looks down at her bent knees then takes a deep breath before meeting his eyes once more. As before, she answers him the only way she knows how: honestly.

"To be a SeeD." With a shrug, she runs a hand through her unbound hair. "It's all I've ever wanted. Garden is my home. It's the core of my identity. It IS my identity. If I'm not a SeeD, I... I don't know what I am, if anything at all."

"Look at me," he demands. When she complies, she sees he is now also sitting up straight and his hands are reaching for her shoulders. "That's some bullshit. You are twenty years old, Quistis Trepe, that is too young to be defined by anything. If I don't let go of my dream, you don't give up on finding a new one for yourself. Deal?"

Knowing it is pointless to disagree, she gives him a small smile. "I can try."

"You're brilliant, nothing you can't figure out," compliments Irvine, releasing his light grip and leaning back. "Ever thought of going to a real school, getting a real degree? Something that doesn't involve gutting monsters or hackin' up soldiers?"

Considering this, she worries the inside of her cheek. "That's actually not a bad idea. Thanks, I'll think about it."

"Good." His grin returns to its usual width as he starts to rise. "Suppose I should go find Selphie before she finds me. Or before Nida eats all my chicken wings." Like the gentleman he was taught to be, he holds out a hand to help her stand. She takes it then gives him a hug when they are both on their feet. "You coming in?"

"Not yet, in a minute." When Irvine heads up the small set of stairs leading to the employee entrance, she calls out his name to make him pause. "Thank you, again. For everything."

He acknowledges her gratitude with a tip of his hat. An instant later, the alley is filled with the clatter of the restaurant kitchen, but the sounds disappear when the metal door slams shut.

Quistis stands alone in the alley. The only noises she can hear are the distant puttering of a boat returning to the harbour after a late-night cruise and the infrequent muffled calls from people on the main street. She wonders what time it is. Heading toward the stairs now herself, she is jolted out of her brooding when the door re-opens above. The light from the kitchen reveals the intimidating frame of Seifer Almasy.

With her luck, she supposes, it could have been no other.

"Instructor," he greets her, lifting a single blond brow.

The door bangs behind him, and the alley returns to its former murky darkness.

"At this point, I think we can drop that moniker, don't you?" She sighs for what feels like the thousandth time that night and crosses her arms. Her fingers long to rub the goosebumps on her skin but she resists the sign of weakness in front of an adversary. All of the residual mellow she felt from the greens has vanished.

Seifer shrugs a shoulder, pulling a lighter and cigarette pack out of his inside coat pocket. "What are you doing out here?"

"Hiding from my captors," she quips, not wanting to get into an argument. She watches him light up and lean against the metal rail of the landing.

"Guess I can't blame you," he smirks. "Some fucky friends you got there. Especially Tilmitt. Chickenwuss is annoying enough but damn. Did you see her hanging off the rafters in there? I'd wonder how she has a boyfriend if I didn't assume the Cowboy's stoned all the time."

"They are your friends, too, Seifer. Or at least they were."

HIs responding sneer causes her eyes to roll. "Yeah, that ship has sailed, exploded, and rained moon monsters."

"Speaking of friends." Quistis decides to change tactics. In truth, she would rather end the conversation completely but as the infuriating man is blocking the door, she is trapped. She reminds herself this is a chance to find out how he is holding up with Garden's closure. For whatever reason, she will always want to help him, if she can. "How are Fujin and Raijin?"

Seifer narrows his eyes and takes a long drag before responding. "Fine. Raij has a job in FH. The hippie-freak of a mayor hired him as a one-man army. Fujin's staying here to teach at Balamb Academy, promised to keep giving Chickenwuss a hard time for me."

"That was nice of her."

"Someone's gotta keep reminding him what a dumbass he is." Stamping out his cigarette on the rail, he looks down at her with a frown. "Before you can ask, no, I don't have a job. And no, I don't need your help getting one."

"Who said I was going to offer?" She cocks her head, hating his larger than usual height advantage. Sparring with Seifer takes all her faculties. Given all the booze she's had, followed by the greens, she is too aware she is not on her mental game. Her words are more flippant and spontaneous than she would prefer, not at all as well planned as they should be around her cagey former student.

"I know everything you're going to do," he replies, flicking the butt onto the ground with all the others from employee smoke breaks. "But you can save it, Trepe, because I don't need your pathetic attempts to sort my shit out."

She almost snorts. "Believe me, I am not the least bit interested in your shit."

At this, he laughs, trademark smirk stretching back into place. In the low orange light above the door, she can see a new emotion flicker in his green eyes. "Is that your attempt to shock me? Oooh, Perfect Instructor said a bad word! Now that Garden is finished are you finally taking that giant stick out of your ass? I bet that's gonna take a truckload of lube."

"Must you -"

"Must you always be so vile?" Seifer mimics, speaking over her. "So fucking predictable."

It could just be the drugs in her system blurring things but his laughter, while mocking, doesn't have its characteristic edge, she notices. It doesn't cut to the quick. He seems tired, she thinks. Burnt out. She can relate. He might leave an opening if she advances.

"You don't know me as well as you think," Quistis says, dropping her arms from their tight hold over her chest and moving closer to the stairs.

"I know you better than you do," he asserts, folding his arms and crossing one heavy-booted ankle over the other, the image of a man in control. "I know you've been moping worse than Puberty Boy in his most emo days. I will say I'm surprised you haven't hand-cuffed yourself to Cid's desk, refusing to move 'til they reopen Garden."

Trying to replicate his aloof manner, she shrugs and balances a foot on the bottom step. "I've accepted the situation."

"Sure you have." His smirk turns wolfish. "After a decade of masturbating to the SeeD Handbook, it can't be easy. Of course, it helps that everyone on the planet is pissing all over themselves to hire you. Not that you haven't been bitching about that too. Nothing's ever good enough."

"Jealous?" She raises her eyebrows and smiles, shoving down the ire that demands release at his dismissive tone. Quistis moves up another step.

"It's not like they're after you for your mediocre abilities. It's the SeeD exam all over again."

The dig is unexpected. It's an old jibe and shouldn't hurt, but her grief over the loss of Garden is raw. It is the only thing that had ever given her pride. It ticks her off that he is still trying to take it away. Dark blond brows knit over her nose. She should know better than to take the bait but the intensity of his stare winds her up. "What are you implying, Seifer?"

"Oh, it's no implication, everyone knows it." He stands upright, glaring down at her and thrusting out an arm in a wild gesticulation. "Cid only passed you so young because you were a pretty face for his recruitment posters. World leaders only want to hire you now because they hope you'll fuck them."

An arm swings up before she can stop herself. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he catches her wrist in the air before she can connect her fist with his solar plexus. The taunting smile returns to his lips. "Predictable little Instructor."

Quistis growls and holds the rail with one hand while attempting to yank her arm away from his painful grasp. She works to convey as much malice she can muster in her glare. "You are such an asshole."

Though she doesn't swear often, when she does, she wants it to count. It infuriates her further when Seifer seems to remain impervious to her anger. She much prefers when he is struggling to rattle her, as is more often the case. Turnabout is not fair play, in her current estimation. He always has the advantage in their ongoing war anyway. She never fights as dirty. Perhaps it is time she starts.

"Don't worry. It's all just fantasy for them. I know you wouldn't prostitute yourself for a job." He snickers and drops her arm. "You wouldn't even know how."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tossing her hair, she looks up at him with an exasperated expression. Her wrist throbs in time with her quickening pulse. "You think I'm so inexperienced?"

"I know you are," he replies, eyes almost dancing as he continues to tease her. "Trepe the Ice Queen, the frigid virgin."

Instead of aggravating her further, his mockery provokes her adrenal glands and triggers the kind of rush she feels in battle or when solving a complicated problem. Her efforts in violent retaliation had brought her to the step right below him and she moves one further so she is now standing at a level height. Of course, he is still taller, but it's a playing field she's more comfortable on.

"I hate to disillusion you, but you can't believe everything written online." Lips curving, Quistis looks up at her opponent, enjoying the uncertainty shadowing over his forehead. "I'm hardly the angel of purity the Trepies choose to think I am."

Seifer looks down at her with curiosity. All derision has faded from his near elegant features. If it wasn't for the scar that will marr his skin for the rest of his life, he would fit any classical artist's rendering of male beauty. It's just too bad his personality is often so repellent.

"Are you trying to tell me you aren't a virgin?"

"Would it actually surprise you?"

"Prove it," he dares.

As if she had been waiting for a chance to do just that, Quistis stuns herself by lifting her heels and kissing him on the mouth. If Seifer is equally shocked by her behaviour, he recovers fast. What she thinks she intended to be a momentary caress, takes a steep dive when his lips move under hers.

All of a sudden, she can't breathe. What's worse is, she doesn't care if she ever does again. Her lips part to invite more sensation, and he obliges. Her head falls back and eyes close, the light scrape of his teeth on her tongue making her forget who and where they are. All she wants is more of this, more heat, more of the excitement that thrums in her blood as the kiss spins into something she could never have predicted.

It has been so long since she discovered anything new about herself and her capacity for action. While exploring Seifer's mouth has never been one of her ambitions, it is compelling to realize she is still capable of fresh emotion. It might be possible to be something more than cool and collected Quistis who always does the right thing. Even more, she has to wonder how much more there is in the world she has yet to experience. She feels a rough thumb on her cheek and hard fingers moving into the hair behind her ear. This simple touch incites more feeling than the thrill of their mouths meeting alone. In response, she shifts closer, appreciating the potential power of his body against hers. He makes a low noise when she moves her hand to the back of his neck to pull him into her.

Is this what kissing can actually be like, she marvels. This is far different than anything she has felt with any of her polite former partners. She'd never quite understood the fuss. Sex was a tension release, a reflex, something done because it was socially expected. It was a mild diversion, at best. This, however, she thinks, shuddering a sigh when Seifer tangles his hand in her hair and nibbles on her lower lip, is exhilarating.

The door beside them opens, smacking Seifer in the shoulder. He emits an annoyed grunt, and pulls away, leaving Quistis standing there, blinking in the harsh florescent light from the kitchen.

"Excuse me," says a familiar voice. Shaking her head as if to wake herself up, she turns to see Sabir the bartender standing in the doorway, hoisting a black garbage bag. Naturally, it all devolves from here.

As the stairway landing is not large enough for three people, she ends up going back down to make space, mind buzzing with freshly collected data. Seifer goes the other direction, slipping behind Sabir into the kitchen and beyond. Quistis stands there, feeling foolish and mortified, while Sabir goes about his routine of disposing the trash and returning to work inside. It seems to take him hours to climb back up the stairs, and she is pretty sure she dies three times in the process. Once he's gone and the door is shut, she covers her face with her hands. What the hell was that?

Ascending the stairs to re-enter the restaurant and locate her friends - as well as, she hopes, her sanity - a strange elation falls over her. Rather than burning in shame and horror, the back of her throat threatens to bubble up in laughter. She finds herself smiling while she navigates through the employee area into the dining room and bar. It's got to be the intoxicants and the craziness of the night getting to her, but she no longer wants any of it to end.

She arrives back at the group table and plunks down next to Xu who is seated across from Irvine, listening to him tell some sort of convoluted story. None of the others are around so Quistis is safe from having to talk to anyone while she processes the complex emotions whirling through her brain. When the man finishes his tale, Xu makes a quip that she doesn't hear, then turns to her with a quizzical smile.

"Hey, you," prompts her friend, nudging her with a foot. "You look... Weird. Get that bartender's number yet?"

"No." Quistis frowns down at the table before gazing back up and trapping both of the other occupants in her vortex of bewilderment. When she speaks again, it is in awe. "I just made out with Seifer Almasy."

The table is silent for four solid beats, and then three more. Ever resourceful and efficient, Xu is the first to break the stunned hush. "All right, it's time to go."

"Yep," Irvine agrees, nodding slowly. "I need to find Selphie anyway."

"Can you take her jacket? I'll bring her purse."

"Sure thing."

"Do we need to tell Dincht?"

"Nah, he's still chasing that poor girl around."

"Wait, what?" Still stuck in her circulating thoughts, Quistis only realizes what's going on when Xu and Irvine stand over her to encourage her out of the chair. "I'm not going anywhere. You two head out if you want, but I'm staying." I need to find Seifer, she thinks. She needs to talk with him about what happened. If she leaves without figuring it out, she'll go crazy.

"Uh, no, you're not. Trust me, you'll be grateful tomorrow. Ready, Kinneas?" Xu asks over her shoulder, while pulling up the younger woman. "I might need your help." Turning back to Quistis, she curses. "Quis, if you don't move, Irvine will haul you out on his back. Hell, I'll cast a float spell and fly you out."

"Fine," she consents and lets Xu tug her toward the door. "But I want to talk to Seifer first."

"Almasy is the last person on earth I would let you talk to right now." Xu rolls her eyes and lets out a short puff of air, ruffling the bangs on her forehead. "Keep moving. We're going home."

The bouncers at the front door don't blink when the three pass by, Quistis locked between an intimidating woman in spike heels and a tall man in chaps and a cowboy hat, protesting all the way. Some security they are, she mutters to herself. Can't they tell I'm being removed against my will?

Once outside, they decrease the hold on her arms and allow her a bit of space. "Can we trust you to walk on your own now?" Xu asks with a sardonic twist of her upper lip.

Glaring, Quistis is about to retort with her own haughty rejoinder but she is interrupted when Seifer steps away from the wall and joins the trio on the sidewalk. "I see your captors found you."

"Take a long walk off a short pier," barks Xu without sparing him a glance. "Quistis. Let's go."

"This is ridiculous!" She throws up her arms, stepping away. "I'm a grown woman, and I'm not THAT drunk! I can make my own decisions, tie my own shoes, and everything."

"Pretty sure she can wipe her own ass, too," Seifer adds with a scowl for the older woman. "Or do you need to supervise that as well?"

"Almasy," Irvine cuts in with a dark frown of his own. "Enough, eh? It's late."

"Irvine, can I have my jacket, please?" Holding out a hand, Quistis looks her friend in the eye. He searches her face for a moment then hands the requested item over, giving her a look that says he hopes she knows what she's about.

"Xu, my purse, please?"

On a long sigh, Xu follows suit, though with more obvious reluctance than Irvine. "Be careful, Q. I mean it."

"Thank you, and thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." Well, mostly, she thinks. Her friends' worry, while good intentioned, is more than a little suffocating. They've never expressed fear for her safety while out on life threatening missions or interest in her mental health any other time, she fumes. Why are they so interested in her welfare now? She knows she probably appears unhinged, and it's possible she is. But she needs to explore this. She can't go on like this for the rest of her life.

"Seifer, can I talk with you for a minute?"

Appearing highly entertained by the drama playing out between the three friends, he looks taken aback when she addresses him. "Fine." He shoves his hands into his pockets, face turning impassive.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Quistis slips into her jacket and smiles at her friends who are watching her with looks of equal caution and alarm. "I'll see you guys later!"

Snickering, Seifer waggs his fingers in an exaggerated fashion then follows her down the sidewalk toward the centre square. His legs have no difficulty catching up with her and they walk side by side in silence for several blocks. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asks, when Xu and Irvine are long behind them. His voice is low with a tonality she can't decipher.

"Mostly, I wanted to get away from them," she replies, unsure how to begin now that they are alone. It isn't fair to disparage her well-meaning friends but she isn't bothered by niceties at the moment. Her synapses crackle with conflicting thoughts. Glad she doesn't have to look at the man beside her, she focuses her vision on the buildings up ahead. "Should we talk about what happened?" The question hangs in the cooling night air.

Eventually, Seifer coughs and saves her from death by fearful anticipation. "What's to say? I dared you to kiss me, and you did. Guess you can still surprise me, Instructor."

Is that it, she wanted to ask. Is that really all that had occurred between them on the stairs? It had felt like so much more than a childish prank. For her, it had been close to a revelation. But perhaps he was right. If so, she should be comforted by this knowledge. Right?

"Good to know." Feeling braver now, if unsettled, she smiles at him, tucking her hair behind an ear. "It's not often you admit when you're wrong."

"I didn't say I was wrong," he corrects, "just that I was surprised. I doubt it'll happen again. You're still the most predictable woman on the planet." This time Seifer is the one to surprise her with a genuine smile that causes the smooth skin around his eyes to crinkle. He looks nice like that, she thinks. When he isn't throwing a tantrum or trying to be as deliberately cruel as possible, he almost seems bearable. Like when he was kissing her, for instance, she can't help but recall. It was one way to shut him up.

"Hmmm," is all she murmurs out loud. The memory of his thumb pressing on her cheek makes her bite her lip. She stops walking, and he stops less than a foot in front of her, noticing her change of pace mid-stride. "Do you want to go in here?"

He looks up at the sign on the building beside them. "This is a karaoke bar."

"Your point?"

"People sing in there, Trepe. Very badly. Our ears will bleed."

"Are you afraid of karaoke, Seifer?" Her smile is slow and teasing. It's fun to be on the other side for a change, the impulsive one with frivolous ideas to regret later. The one to ask 'why did I' rather than 'why didn't I'. She always wondered what could feel like to let go. Now she understands why people drink.

"I'm not afraid, I just think it's stupid." When her grin grows at his refusal, he sighs. "Fine, let's go inside. I promise you, it will be awful."

And he is right. It is awful. But in a way that fascinates her. It is an incredible display to witness. She imagines the courageous souls onstage either are so intoxicated they can't hear themselves or so delusional they think they are rock stars. After a few rounds, Quistis turns to Seifer with a mixed expression of wonder and disbelief.

"I don't think I could physically drink enough to get on stage and do this," she says with an amazed shake of her head. She has to speak into his ear to be heard over the lowing cow sounds of the current performer.

Seifer lifts his head and shoots her an evil grin. Leaning over the small table between them, he speaks into her ear. "Is that a challenge? Because I would pay a lot of money to see that."

Laughing, she waves her arms in front of her face in a decided no, but seconds later, he is standing and walking toward the bar. Great, she thinks, rolling her eyes at her own lack of foresight. Even with the potential for disaster, she is having a good time. She's wanted to consider Seifer a friend for a long time, wished she'd known better how to navigate his moods and personal demons. They were family, all of them. It never felt right not including him in things. Likely by morning everything will return to its standard routine of bickering and thinly-veiled threats, but she will enjoy this armistice while it lasts.

Waiting for Seifer to return, she gazes around the stuffy bar. The last performer has taken mercy on the audience and left the stage. In the corner by the booth, she spots a familiar shock of auburn hair paired with a bright yellow dress that could belong to no one but Selphie Tilmitt. Next to her, hands shoved into the pockets of a certain fur-lined coat, stands Squall Leonhart. As she watches, amazed, Selphie appears to be scrolling through an electronic catalogue. Every few seconds she points to something on the screen and looks over to her companion with a hopeful tilt of her head. So far, she assumes, judging by Squall's firm negative responses, Selphie has not been successful in convincing him to participate. She feels a flash of guilt, remembering she had promised Rinoa she would talk to him. The conversation in the restroom feels like a week ago.

"Let's see if this works," says Seifer, sliding a plastic cup in front of her before returning to his seat with a drink of his own. "Lucky for you, I don't think there are any Trepies around to see you in your glory."

"It doesn't matter," replies Quistis, lifting a brow. "I'm not singing no matter how much you beg." She tips the cup to make a study of the brown liquid swirling beneath the rim. "What's in this?"

"Don't be so suspicious, Instructor. If I wanted to poison you, I would've done it years ago." Seifer rolls his eyes, then takes a sip from the cup raised to his mouth. "It's my own special recipe. Two parts whisky, one part – Holy shit!" Glancing up, she realizes Seifer has spotted Selphie and Squall as well. Mouth hanging open, he stares at the stage. "No fucking way."

Quistis laughs, leaning back in her seat. "Bizarre, isn't it? I have no idea how she got him here."

"Un-fucking-believable. How hammered is Puberty Boy?" Shaking his head, he continues to stare at the stage. "I've gotta get closer."

"Bad idea." She nabs his sleeve before he can move away. If Squall sees Seifer in his current state, it is impossible to guess how he will react. The few times she has seen the former commander drink, he seemed to turn even more inward, but if he is willing to join Selphie on stage the man must be pretty far gone. He's made it clear how much he hates being the centre of attention. With no Rinoa in sight to keep him grounded, and Seifer's infamous ability to push things too far, things could get ugly fast. "No fighting in the bar."

"I'm wounded," he says, putting his free hand to his chest. "I'm not gonna start anything. How could you deprive me of a front row seat to Leonhart's disgrace? This could be the best night of my life."

Knowing there is nothing she can really do to stop him, she releases his coat. "Fine, but I'm not bailing you out of jail."

The moment the duo step on the stage, Quistis winces. This can't end well. Squall has never looked more dazed. He has more self-awareness when under a confusion spell than he appears to have in stock now. She can't help but wonder again where his girlfriend went. It isn't like him to stray far from her in a social situation. Selphie doesn't look too blitzed but it's hard to be sure from the back of the room. Her energy levels are always shocking, and she's never been much for inhibitions even when sober. The two are not a natural pair. It's strange to see them together with none of their other friends around. Preparing herself for the worst, she takes a pull from Seifer's dangerous-smelling concoction. She has a feeling she'll need it.

Either the drink has the side effect of changing one's auditory perception, fitting for a place like this, or her friends' signing isn't as horrible as she expected. Yes, it's terrible, but she isn't clutching her ears in pain. Quistis rests her chin in her hands and tries to enjoy the show.

" _From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one, as she stared in my eyes and smiled,_ _"_ is Squall's opening lyric, though he's more talking than singing. The original male part must be intended for a baritone, Quistis thinks, which the former commander is not. She covers a giggle with one hand as she listens to him struggle to lower his voice to the correct register. The look on his face is one of severe consternation. " _For her lips were the colour of the roses. They grew down the river, all bloody and wild."_

Selphie grips the microphone between her tiny fingers, swaying in time with the guitar music. Her engaging smile belies the dark lyrics. _"_ _When he knocked on my door and entered the room_  
 _My trembling subsided in his sure embrace,_ _"_ she sings in an airy, though sweeter, tone than Quistis had anticipated. The older woman may not know much about music, but she knows enough to tell when someone is off-key. " _They call me The Wild Rose but my name was Elisa Day. Why they call me it I do not know, for my name was Elisa Day."_

Quistis gives her friends extra points for bathos and takes another sip from her cup. She twists her neck to see where Seifer managed to seat himself but can't spot his bright blond head among the cheering crowd. Evidently, her friends are quite the hit.

" _On the second day I brought her a flower. She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen._  
 _I said, 'Do you know where the wild roses grow, so sweet and scarlet and free?"_ intones Squall. Unlike Selphie, his feet are rooted to the floor. It is difficult to see any of the teenaged boy from her classroom in the man on stage now. No one would suspect he'd ever been as taciturn and unfeeling as the younger version of himself. It's troubling to wonder what might have caused this public display of angst.

" _On the third day he took me to the river, he showed me the roses and we kissed,"_ trills his female partner, almost pleading with the audience at this point. It is hard not to laugh at her overwrought appeal. Selphie has always been good at playing it up. " _And the last thing I heard was a muttered word as he stood smiling above me with a rock in his fist."_

" _As I kissed her goodbye, I said, 'all beauty must die' and lent down and planted a rose between her teeth,_ _"_ Squall tries extra hard on this line, Quistis observes, affected, perhaps, by his companion's exaggerated stagecraft.

When the performance comes to an end with Selphie dropping to her knees with the back of her hand flung to her forehead during the final chorus. Quistis laughs and cheers with her fellow patrons. Never has she seen such a heavy-handed performance. And she used to be an instructor, receiving numerous melodramatic pleas from desperate cadets on a weekly basis. Squall and Selphie's tear-jerking duet tops them all.

When the two take their bows, she catches sight of Seifer, standing and whistling louder than anyone else in the front row. Her eyes widen, and she rises, striding toward the stage as fast as the crowds will allow. She just hopes she can make it there before any violence breaks out. To her extreme annoyance, her progress toward the front of the room is waylaid by a jeer from the table she is about to snake past.

"Hey, slut." The male voice is recognizable, even if the scorn and resentment it contains is not. "Where's my drink?"

Her eyes slit into those of a cat as she spins to face the offending speaker. "What did you just call me?" As she expects, there lounges Sabir the bartender between two ball-capped males with matching leers twisting their faces.

"He called you a skank, wench," the man to his right replies, propping a skinny arm on the back of his chair. "A whore, a cunt."

"I think she gets the picture, Jacek," cuts in a woman also seated at the table. Quistis' gaze flickers to her in brief interest but remains primarily focused on the man in the middle of the group.

Angling her head, she gives him a once-over. It seems he and his friends haven't been slow in getting as plastered as possible since the end of their shift. The smart thing to do would be to ignore the stock slut-shaming and walk away. None of them are worth her time. But a large part of her brain is too ticked off to let them get away with it. Someone has to teach disgusting entitled men like these a lesson. Why not she?

"Not that I find any of those words insulting in themselves but what, precisely, is your problem?" Quistis asks, looking down on the group with her most imperious glare.

Sabir shrugs. The blue eyes she'd found so alluring earlier are now unreadable and devoid of charm. "No problem. I just don't appreciate being manipulated by slutty bitches, that's all."

"Oh, I see," she replies with a cold smile that has sent thousands running for cover. "Because you bought me a drink, I owe you sex, is that it?" Shifting onto one hip, she crosses her arms. Her eyes ignite into blue flame.

"The least you could've done is loosened up after the roofie," the second man says, turning to his friends and laughing. "What kind of whore is immune to Special K, am I right?"

The flame bursts into an explosion to match the one in her brain. Quistis slams her hands on their table. "What kind of loser needs to drug women to get them to sleep with him? What's the matter, Sabir? Not a lot going on down there?" Her taunt has all three men rising out of their chairs, and she steps back so she can look them in the eyes. "This is how you prove yourselves as men, is it? Rape sure takes real courage."

"No fighting in the bar, Trepe," Seifer's low voice reminds over her left shoulder.

Looking back at him, she moves one hand to her hip and gestures to the table with an incline of her head. "Do you want to know what they just said to me?"

"Your girlfriend is a slut, mate," calls Sabir. "A bitch who needs to be taught a lesson."

Quistis watches as the muscles in Seifer's jaw clench. They exchange a glance of mutual understanding and agreement and then swivel in tune toward the opposing men.

He folds his arms and surveys the trio. "So, assholes, shall we resolve this outside?" The tone of his voice makes it sound like he's inviting them to play Triple Triad.

The third man, who has otherwise remained silent until now, steps forward to meet Seifer toe to toe. Quistis recognizes him as a bouncer from the restaurant. Now that he's closer, she sees he is one of the few people in Balamb to actually dwarf the younger blond man in size. Not that this fazes Seifer for a moment.

"You sure about that, kid?" The bouncer threatens. "This don't have to be your fight."

"It already is," By the tension in the lines of his face and throat, she guesses Seifer is at least as furious as she, though the tone of his speech stays conversational. This is a fight they are both going to enjoy. "If you don't mind, gentlemen," he bends into a bow, gesturing for the others to lead the way. "I'd prefer to have fewer witnesses around when we eviscerate your fucking sorry asses."

It isn't long after they arrive into the night air before the bouncer takes his first swing at Seifer's head. The man always did have a smart mouth and a knack for instigating violence. For his part, he dodges the heavy fist by arching to the left then grabs the larger man's arm and twists it back before he can react. Seifer yanks it further around until his assailant groans in pain then lets him drop to the ground.

Spotting Sabir's quick movement toward Seifer to her right, Quistis swings her body into a kneecapping roundhouse. Her powerful kick hits its mark and the man emits a sharp inhalation of breath before thudding beside his friend. She is once again thankful she wore her boots tonight. There is no way she could have performed as well in heels.

Meanwhile, the third man announces his attack with a yell. He runs at Seifer, arms reaching out to lock him in a stranglehold as he leaps into the air. Though his smaller size grants him agility, Seifer evades him without issue by falling into a crouch. He grabs his attacker around his back and flips him onto the concrete. His menacing shout fades into a whimper. Seifer turns to Quistis with a smirk and opens his mouth, she assumes, to make a quip at their opponents' expense, when the bouncer and Sabir start to rise.

"Really?" Seifer shakes his head and sighs. "Do we have to humiliate you again?"

The bouncer moves into a boxing stance. He may be slow but Quistis knows better than to underestimate an enemy. The third man struggles into a standing position as well, looking bruised but alert. All three focus their enmity on Seifer, which makes her smile. Civilian males can be catastrophically short-sighted, she thinks, as they turn their backs to her.

Seifer lands an elbow in the smallest man's neck while ducking to avoid the bouncer's right hook. He reads the larger man without difficulty, retaliating with a blow to the man's eye with the heel of his hand. Sabir dances around to take advantage of Seifer's distraction to grab him from behind, but Quistis is faster. She catches him off guard with her left foot to his waist to get his attention. When he spins around to strike back with a two-handed push, he leaves himself open and she ducks, right fist flying up into his unprepared abdomen. She can't lie. The grunt and following whoosh of air that escapes his mouth as he falls to the ground is very satisfying.

Her celebration is cut short when she feels the third man's hand moving over her scalp to grip her hair. Disgusted, she jerks back with an elbow that plows into his chest. Evidently surprised by her strength and reaction time, his fingers loosen, enabling her to swivel around to deliver an uppercut that knocks him down beside his friend. At this point, she looks over to see Seifer crack his knuckles into the bouncer's jaw. The taller man's head flies back and he drops as well with a pained snarl.

"Hyne, that really fucking hurts without gloves," complains Seifer, flexing and unflexing his hand.

"Obviously. You should've known better than to punch like that," Quistis scolds with a roll of her eyes. "If I was grading you, I'd give you a C minus. At best."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" He scowls. "You're welcome, by the way."

Moving forward she reaches for his hand but it is hard to examine his knuckles in the low light. "Are you bleeding? Let me see." She tugs him toward a street lamp and away from the fallen men. "I don't think anything is broken. Would you like me to kiss it better?"

The click of footfalls drawing near interrupts any sarcastic retort Seifer might have thought up to her question. The two look over to take in the slender young woman with thick copper hair standing in front of them. Quistis hadn't placed her inside the karaoke bar, but she now remembers her as the server who'd delivered Sabir's cocktail a few hours ago.

"You guys are from Garden, eh?" The woman asks, shooting a look over her shoulder toward her co-workers remaining on the ground. When they both respond with a slow nod, she wriggles her tight purple skirt lower on her thighs. "Thanks for taking it easy on them." She jerks a thumb at the men behind her. "They're not as tough as they act. Townie boys, y'know?"

Seifer snorts, pulling his hand away from Quistis to shove it in his coat pocket. "They're just lucky we're unarmed and had to improvise."

Pushing back her too-shiny-to-be-real hair, she darts a hesitant look at Quistis. "For what it's worth, Sabir's not a bad guy. I really don't think he laced your drink. That's just Jacek's idea of a joke."

Quistis folds her arms over her chest. "I'm sure I found it hilarious."

"Still, I appreciate you not beating them up too much," she says then backs away, seeming to become aware that her acquaintance is not desirable to the former Garden residents. "Cheers, eh?"

As the woman departs to check on the welfare of her friends, Quistis almost feels Seifer's hard glare burning into her cheek.

"Did that fucker try to drug you? Because I will tear his Hyne-damned tiny dick off, rip it in half, and shove the pieces into the asses of his fucking douchebros before you can say date rape." The threats are not quiet. His voice almost echoes in the stilled street.

Stunned by the viciousness of his words, it takes her a second to realize that he has swung around and is about to roar back over to where their assailants crouch by the bar entrance. "Wait!" Quistis catches his arm before he can take a step and manages to hold him in place. "It's fine. I mean, it's not fine, but I wasn't drugged. They're just entitled idiots who think women owe them blow jobs for smiling at them." When his forearm relaxes, she lets go of her hold, then almost smiles at his incredulous stare. "Another reason to avoid civilians. At least Garden men save your life once or twice before they expect oral sex."

Rubbing his hands over his face then into his hair, Seifer curses. "That and the mandatory course every cadet had to take." He rolls his shoulders and straightens his coat. "How Not to be a Psycho Rapist, we called it. No means no and enthusiastic consent. Pathetic that guys don't know this shit."

"I never heard about that," says Quistis, intrigued. It isn't surprising. Along with drugs and alcohol, Cid Kramer had instilled a zero-tolerance policy for sexual misconduct. Balamb Garden took its responsibility for the wellbeing of its students and wards seriously. With a school full of physically active teenagers who were often unsupervised in compromising situations, sex was going to happen. It made sense that trying to ensure it happened safely for everyone was a priority, along with just teaching common sense and respect.

"It seemed to work. Only had one complaint when I was on the DC and it was someone's asshole cousin," he replies, hands back in his pockets.

"Well, on Garden grounds and against Garden females, anyway," she qualifies, causing Seifer to frown. Not eager to continue the conversation, or get into an argument about rape statistics among SeeDs, Quistis decided to change the subject. "What time is it? Do you think there's a chance anything is still open? All this righteous anger has made me really hungry."

"Depends. How do you feel about shawarma?"

"I have no feelings about it. I've never had it."

"There's a truck a few streets away that's usually open for the after-bar crowd." He smirks at her. "If you're brave enough."

"Why do I need fortitude? Is it toxic?"

"Yeah, that's why it's so popular. People eat it and die." With a roll of his eyes, he starts walking away. "If you're too stuck-up to try something new, it's fine. More for me."

If not for her need for food, Quistis tells herself she would not be following the sarcastic jerk. Not being familiar with Balamb after midnight, she puts her faith in Seifer to lead her to nourishment. As they turn a corner closer to the hotel, angry and familiar voices give her pause and she darts behind a parked car. Her companion seems to have the same idea and is beside her in seconds. Peeking around the vehicle, she spots Zell and Xu among a crowd standing outside a darkened bistro. It appears all patrons have been evicted due to the inexorable closing time that eventually greets every bar hopper.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Zell's manic yelling carries down the lane to their amused ears. "I went out tonight to get laid, dang it, and I'm not going home until I at least make out with someone!"

Seifer starts to laugh, and Quistis elbows him in the ribs, shushing him with a dark look before focusing back on her friends.

"For crying out loud, Dincht," says Xu. "Fine."

Quistis watches, speechless and fascinated, as the woman swings Zell around, drags him closer, ands plants her mouth on his. Even Seifer stays quiet as the kiss goes on. She is scared to look at him in case his expression makes her laugh out loud. Worrying the inside of her cheek, she ponders what could have happened to her friends since she left them. Has everyone gone mad?

Xu releases Zell with a shove. "There. Now let's get the hell out of here."

She swivels on a heel and now faces in the direction of the car. Fearing notice, Quistis and Seifer mutter matching oaths and scuttle backwards, running down the side street and then around a blind corner. If Xu sees them, Quistis knows she is in for a world of pain. This knowledge, however, doesn't prevent giggles from emerging as they sprint away.

Fifteen minutes later, after a few wrong turns and a heated discussion regarding the efficiency of street names versus street numbers, they are in luck and the truck is still serving customers. The aromas greet her nose before she is fifty metres away and her stomach rumbles, making Seifer laugh. Rather than give in to embarrassment, Quistis challenges him to a race, being sure to step on his foot as she takes off. Of course, they both take credit for victory, which leads to another squabble, but an exultant Quistis is served first. She is not shy crowing over her win. However, as they both receive their food at the same time, her triumph is short-lived. The resort town lane resumes its peaceful aspect as the two stroll away, intent on their warm, greasy packages.

Seifer almost groans while he enjoys his first bite. "The man is a genius with a rotisserie."

"Hmmmm," Quistis considers the chicken sandwich in her hand. It does smell amazing, and she has never felt this hungry in her life. She pulls out a piece of meat with two fingers and dips it into her mouth. Salt, cardamom, and garlic embrace her tongue, as well as something sweet she can't name. It's a delicious combination. She pokes at the other ingredients tucked into the bread. "What are these pink, crunchy things?"

Her companion looks over, already half-finished his meal. "Pickled turnip."

She makes a face, pulling one out to nibble. "What a horrid way to ruin a perfectly good sandwich."

"It's food, Trepe. Just eat it," Seifer responds. "You'll have to wait 'til tomorrow for your frilly gourmet restaurants to open."

She continues to chew and consider as they walk, not paying attention to direction. Every time she encounters a turnip she sneaks it into her napkin. "I just think a different vegetable would be better. Maybe cucumber or some sort of pepper?"

He stops his forward stride and she almost runs right into him. When she glances up, his expression is filled with ridicule. "Do you really want to have a pretentious discussion about street food right now?"

"I don't know." She shrugs, licking a garlic sauce from her thumb. "What would you like to do instead?"

At this, he grins, as if he'd only been waiting to be asked. "How about a cruise in a hundred-foot yacht?"

Raising a brow, she looks up from the remains of her sandwich to see Seifer heading toward a glamourous boat docked in the harbour. She hadn't realized they'd meandered so close to the water. The vessel in question is imposing. It towers over the other boats docked beside it, and blocks her view of anything behind. Her quizzical expression switches into a frown when she watches her former student step aboard and she realizes wasn't kidding about taking it on the water.

"Seifer!" Ditching the rest of the food in a bin, she hurries over to the boat. The railing around the cockpit and leading up to the bridge is decorated with little lights that are still plugged in, making it easy to spot him searching the open area despite the darkness of the harbour. "Are you crazy? Do you want to get arrested?"

"Yes, Instructor, that is exactly my plan."

Appalled and annoyed, Quistis contemplates leaving him there. Instead, she plants her hands on her hips and glares up at him from the dock. "You are not stealing this boat. What if the owners are sleeping inside?" She darts a glance toward the massive cabin. The windows remain dark for the time being.

"Then I guess you'll wake them up with your bitching," he replies, ducking to open another cabinet. "Didn't you learn basic B and E skills at Garden?"

"Of course," she scoffs. "But they are to be utilized only when the situation demands."

"Ha! Found 'em!" Looking impressed with himself, Seifer rises. He dangles a set of keys in his hand and smirks down at Quistis. His face is lit bright yellow in the twinkling glow. "If you're gonna join me, you need to prove you know how to be stealthy."

"I am definitely not joining you, and you are not using those keys," she states, narrowing her eyes. It isn't the breaking and entering itself that puts her on edge, it's more the spontaneity. She likes to be prepared for every foreseeable possibility when she commits a crime. For her, it's less harrowing to break into a military fortress than commit petty theft. Seifer's utter dauntlessness in this latter area dismays her.

Seifer rolls his eyes, and turns away, moving toward the cabin door where she can't see him. To his credit, she can't hear him either, but it isn't surprising he's a natural at criminal activities. When she doesn't receive a sign of him for a few minutes, she gives in. To wait any longer would be to lose her mind. She climbs into the cockpit as quietly as possible, making an effort to keep her steps on the metal ladder deliberate. Utilizing equal covertness, she slips through the open cabin door. Once inside, she sees Seifer holding open the door of a stainless-steel refrigerator. The light inside is a beacon in the dark space. Nervous, she hisses his name.

"What are you doing? Would you please get out of here before we get caught?" Her words are whispered but she knows he hears her by the way he cocks his head. "Honestly, do you just do things because I tell you not to?"

Seifer gifts her with a blank stare. "Have we met?" He returns to his perusing of the refrigerator contents. After an infinitely long time, during which she keeps her eyes and ears focused on the darkness behind him, he selects a bottle and slides it under his arm then lets the door close. "Lead the way, fearless Instructor."

Undeterred by the tired mockery, she is more than happy to disembark. When they make it back to the safety of the dock without setting off any alarms, the tension eases at the back of her neck. Before she can deliver the lecture she'd been preparing, he holds up the bottle he'd taken from the yacht and grins.

Sparkling wine, it appears, based on the foil top and round bottom. She can't read the label in the dim light but it looks Dolletian. Considering the conspicuous consumption displayed by the boat itself, she assumes the wine is the real deal, and worth more than her boots.

Quistis' eyes meet Seifer's gleaming ones. "What, no glasses?"

His smile grows wider. "If you want one, get it yourself," he challenges, then dangles the set of keys in his other hand in front of her face.

"No, thanks. I'll just try to ignore your germs."

"Didn't seem to bother you earlier."

She might have let his reference slide if he hadn't paired it with a leer and a suggestive curve of his lips. Though he might not have intended the look as mocking taunt, she took it as such and found herself snatching the keys from his hand.

"Three minutes," she pledges, as if being scored on a field exam.

Spinning around, she slithers back up the ladder and into the cockpit. With the aid of the flashlight on her phone, she is positive it takes her no more than sixty seconds to get in and out, prize in hand. Feeling more pride than she should, in light of the fact she has robbed an unknown stranger, she walks back over to Seifer and presents the single flute.

"Very impressive, Instructor," he acknowledges with a slight nod. "Now you're not only complicit but a true criminal. How does it feel to be just like the rest of us?"

"Horrid. But I'll feel a lot better with a glass of wine."

Seifer laughs and this time his chuckles are without contempt. "I guess you've earned it." He tears off the foil and twists open the cage over the cork. "I'm still waiting for that song you promised."

"And I'm still waiting for you to admit you were wrong," says Quistis, frowning at the way Seifer begins wrenching on the cork.

"About what?" The bottle opens with a pop that makes her cringe. But when he pours the bubbling liquid into her glass instead of just chugging out of the bottle, as she'd expected him to, she figures she can let it go.

"About me," she says, admiring the way the wine fizzes along the crystal before taking a sip. "You don't know me as well as you thought."

"Of course, I do," he replies, causing her to look up. With a devilish lowering of his brows, he pulls a matching flute out of his pocket with a flourish and begins to pour. "It's way too much fun manipulating you."

The only thing Quistis can do to prevent herself from dumping her excessively expensive wine in his extremely stupid face is walk away. So she does, all the way down the dock until she reaches the end of the pier. Angry, tired, and confused, she sits down at the edge and lets her feet fall over the side. She gulps the remainder of her glass. Staring out at the black ocean and starless sky, she works to clear her brain of thought and focuses on the lapping waves below. When she turns to set the empty glass down she is annoyed all over again by the sight of Seifer's thick-soled boots beside her.

"Why are you still here?" she asks, facing back to the water. "If I'm so dull."

"I didn't say you were dull, just predictable." He lowers his body next to hers, swishing out his coat so the flap brushes her arm. "I told you, I like pissing you off, pushing you to violence. You get this adorable little tick right there."

She feels Seifer's forefinger rubbing a spot above her temple and swats his hand away, shifting to bestow him with her most withering of glares. "Thanks."

His laughter is low. Reaching for her glass, he re-fills it from the bottle at his side. "Oh, come on, Trepe, you can't say you haven't had fun. When's the last time you let yourself be human?"

She refuses to answer, though she does accept the filled glass.

"Is that what this night has been about?" He quirks his eyebrows. "Impressing me?" The timbre of his voice is incredulous.

"No. I don't think so," her words come slow and she shakes her head. Taking a long sip, she frowns into her lap. "Maybe I wanted to see if I could be someone else." She puts the flute down and leans back on her hands. The wood of the dock is cool and wet along her palms. "I'm tired of overthinking." Quistis feels Seifer's gaze narrow in on her, and she tilts her head toward the sky so she doesn't have to meet it.

"A fatal flaw of the Trepe."

"Better than not thinking at all," she rejoins. "We can't all rush in, gunblades firing at whim."

"Obviously. Only I can get away with that." His chucke is light. She hears him take a drink from the bottle. "Your problem is you're thinking too big," he says, in an urgent tone she isn't used to from him. "Remember what you taught? When encountering a problem, break it down into pieces. Don't stress over the rest of your life, think about what you what to do next month, or even tomorrow."

Bemused, she glances over. "Are you, Seifer Almasy, giving me advice?"

"Why not?" His voice lowers and is applied with its normal dismissive finish. "I'm probably the only one without a selfish motive. I don't give a Wendigo's ass what you do."

Sitting up, she hugs her arms around her waist. "I don't even know what I want to do tomorrow." Quistis knows it's dangerous to let herself be vulnerable around this man. But she's too lost to summon the resources to mask her emotions. "I just know I don't want to do what's expected of me anymore."

"That's a start. What about in the next five minutes? Or right this second?"

Something in the resonance of Seifer's words has her turning to face him. The moon choses that same moment to nudge through the clouds, shafting its blue light over the harbour. His head is directed away from her now, out to sea, but the lunar glow highlights his profile and light hair, making him appear younger, unblemished. The scar on his forehead is a subtle line, almost invisible unless you know where to look. Some otherwise hidden part of her wants to draw her thumb along the damaged skin, which is ridiculous. He's no romance novel hero, wooing his lover in the moonlight. And she's the farthest anyone could be from a classic heroine. Still, she's finding it hard not to get caught up in the enchantment of the moment. Seifer looks at her then, his features unreadable. All of a sudden, she feels nervous. But she can't force her gaze away.

"What about you?" she asks after too much time has elapsed. "What do you want to do right now?"

He bends toward her with curving lips, and she holds her breath. It's a good thing she does because instead of his warm mouth on hers she feels his hands circle her waist then lift her over the water. The cold waves rise up to meet her when he lets go, gravity kicking into gear faster than her brain. She falls deep into the ocean before she registers what's happening. The weight of her clothing resists all attempts to reverse her descent but her muscles are strong and know what to do without too much prompting. She surfaces after a few trying moments and makes sure to coat her assailant with a wall of saltwater as she bursts through.

Hauling herself up and back onto the dock with shaky arms, she maneuvers into a sitting position to catch her breath. Icy water streams from her loose hair and she tosses it back, hoping some of it lands on her former student. She wipes her face with wet hands and realizes her leather jacket is probably destroyed. On a growl, she wrestles it off. It isn't easy when the heavy wet material clings to her clammy skin.

Glowering over at Seifer, who appears to be delighted, she tosses the jacket in his face. "You owe me a new one, and new boots." Despondent, she raises a leg to examine her beloved footwear in the dim light. When all he does is snicker in response, she narrows her eyes further. "And give me your coat, Almasy. It's freezing."

"I guess it's the least I can do," he says, sounding far too pleased with himself for her liking. Once the coarse fabric is lying heavy on her shoulders, he laughs. "You should've seen the look on your face."

"Ha ha ha." She pulls the coat closer, warding off the night air as the water evaporates from her arms and light blouse. With her free hand, she gathers her hair at the back of her neck. "You're lucky I had to turn in my whip."

At this his laughter dies. His brows meet in a mixed expression of surprise and vexation. "They made you give up your weapon? What the fuck?"

Quistis shrugs, long over her upset from this particular requirement. "All weapons officially belong to Garden. I'll get it back if I work for Galbadia or Trabia." She wipes her dripping nose on the coat.

"But you paid for every upgrade, in money and Hyne-damned blood. It's yours."

"Those are the rules. Why are you so shocked? Didn't they make you give up Hyperion?"

"Fuck, no, and I'd've slit the throat of anyone who asked for it."

"Well, that would be why then." Feeling a little bit drier, she plucks up the glass that she'd abandoned on the dock and finishes it off. Once empty, she holds it out. Her smile is cold and sweet. "More wine, please?"

Seifer fulfills her request without speaking. His gaze moves over her face, then he smiles, turning to top up his own flute, draining the bottle. "To Garden?" He lifts his glass in a sardonic toast.

Quistis thinks on this before offering her own. "To freedom."

"Freedom," he agrees. Crystal rings against crystal, reverberating over the quiet surf. "You know, Instructor, one of these days you're gonna have to learn how to ignore the rules."

Enjoying the dancing bubbles on her tongue, it takes her a little while to respond. She feels almost languid and burrows deeper into Seifer's coat, pulling her arms through the long sleeves and unfurling the collar. "Are you going to teach me?" The question is asked on a yawn.

"Who better?" His hand covers the one holding the lapel and tugs her body closer to his warmth.

Curious, she tilts her gaze upward. His eyes appear almost black and his skin has a supernatural radiance. She contemplates shoving him into the water but that would be predictable, and she wants to remain near the heat of his body. When he dips his head to touch his lips to hers, she knows she'd been hoping this would happen again all night.

Quistis lets him take the lead this time, responding to his demanding mouth and tongue with sighs and more access. It's wonderful to allow herself to surrender. No one else has ever asked her to do so in this way. Seifer kisses her like she's a woman, taking her deeper by degrees, holding nothing back. He doesn't ask permission before pressing further, trusting she can handle it and will make it clear if she can't. She feels liberated, permitted to be a sexual being. It's so unlike her previous encounters with men, who'd all treated her like she was doing them a favour.

It isn't long before she feels the boards of the pier pressing against her back. She feels dizzy as his mouth moves down her jaw and she flattens one hand on the dock to find stability. Her other moves into his hair as his teeth nibble on the skin below her ear. She opens her eyes when his mouth covers hers again, in an effort to centre herself. She wants to continue, relishes the heady power of his body over hers, but is very worried her own body has other ideas. Perhaps the wine had been a bad idea. As if sensing her troubles, Seifer lifts his head and studies her face.

"We should get you home," he says, giving her a light smile. He moves away and offers a hand to help her rise with him, but she turns away, afraid to sit up.

"I don't have a home." She nibbles at her lip, focuses on breathing. The cool ocean breeze helps.

"Back to the hotel then." His voice sounds amused.

She can sense him looking at her and feels silly but she is not prepared enough to move yet. Her skull beings to throb. "You go ahead."

"Yeah, right. If I show up at the hotel without you, Xu'll scalp me. And then rip out my intestines."

Quistis groans and rolls to her side. "Thanks for the visual." It isn't just her fear of throwing up preventing her from moving. Something akin to desolation builds in her stomach at the thought of the night being over. She has been dreading this moment every day for the last three months. "Seifer."

"Yes?"

"Do you think if I had chained myself to Cid's desk, it would have done anything?"

There is a pause, whether because he is thinking about her question or annoyed by it she can't tell. "No. Garden died with the war. It just took it's time figuring it out."

"I suppose." She rolls into a sitting position. Her eyes are wide as she somberly regards her companion. "I did too."

After this, her memory becomes hazy. They must have walked back to the hotel somehow, though the logistics are fuzzy. She recalls running, either on the beach or through town. There is a distinct memory involving sand between her toes but that could have come to her in a dream. She thinks there was more dancing, and more kissing, but that could have been a dream as well. The details can't quite come together in her mind and fade even further with time. All she knows for sure is she wakes up hours later, in a hotel bed, to Xu holding out a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.


	3. Tomorrow

**The morning**

"Good morning!" Xu greets Quistis with a huge grin. "Welcome to hangover hell!"

"Ugh, thanks," Quistis mumbles, wincing in the bright light from the open window. All she wants to do is drag the coverlet back over her head. Unfortunately, Xu happens to be sitting on it looking far too jaunty. Still halfway between the jumbled world of slumber and that of the waking, her fragmented thoughts refuse to coalesce into a discernable line. She knows her head hurts but anything beyond that is out of her grasp. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut hoping the intrusion is temporary.

Xu, of course, is not to be dissuaded. Chuckling, she jabs a finger into the younger woman's forehead, forcing her eyes to pop open. Quistis lets out a hiss of severe pain. If she were capable of coherence, she might be grateful her friend was not waking her up with clanging pots and pans or a cold bucket of water for the way she'd ditched her the previous night.

"No more sleeping, my little warrior princess. It's time to get up and look at the world!" The pills shake in their plastic bottle as Xu throws out her arms.

On a groan, Quistis rolls onto her back and rubs her eyelids. They feel swollen under her fingers. "What time is it?"

"Nine hundred hours."

"So late?" Her horror at her lapse is the first idea capable of kick-starting her intellect. She never sleeps in after seven, not even on days off, not even after missions that have her arriving back at Garden as the sun rises. It can't be possible. Struggling to sit up, she presses a hand to her temple.

"You didn't get back until four hundred. Here, drink this." Xu thrusts the cool glass into her hand then screws open the bottle to shake out a few pills. "Swallow these."

Quistis complies, gratified by her friend's kind consideration. The cold liquid hitting the back of her mouth is a panacea, and she begins to feel a bit more like herself, the throbbing in her head notwithstanding.

"I'm sorry I can't do better at the moment without casting," says Xu, not sounding very apologetic at all. "How much do you even remember?" she asks after a slight pause, leaning back on the mattress.

When Quistis looks up, she sees her friend has her head cocked and is not smiling. "Not a lot," she admits. Taking another gulp to push down the pills, she sets the glass on the night stand and frowns. "I'm not even sure how I got here." She shoves a hand through her tangled hair as her mind works to evacuate the fog. "I seem to recall Dolletian wine?" The smell of seawater emanates from the bare skin of her raised arm and triggers a hidden memory. She drops the arm with a thud, staring up at Xu. "Oh, Hyne, Seifer."

Now the other woman does offer a smile, though it's a shrewd one. She crosses her arms over her chest. "I wondered how long it would take."

On a moan, Quistis burries her face in her hands, dread and fear over-riding her pain. It takes a moment for rationality to return. She takes a few deep breaths to calm herself while the logical side of her brain tries to work its magic. Lifting her head once more, she meets her friend's inscrutable gaze.

"I don't think I... I mean, we didn't... There's no way... Right?" Flushed and desperate, she searches Xu's face for confirmation. When she doesn't receive any she flops back onto the bed and screams into a pillow. Only the sound of laughter has her pulling into a seated position again.

"The look on your face, Quis. You're hilarious! Like sex is an evil demon that must be smited." Still laughing, she shakes her head. "Of course, this is sex with Almasy you're talking about, so I suppose your terror is justified." She leans forward to pat Quistis' knee over the blankets. "Don't worry. As far as I know, you didn't."

Quistis sighs and sinks back against the headboard. "Thank Hyne."

"He was actually, creepily, almost a gentleman. Carried you inside, helped me get you to bed, then just took off. It was freaky." Cupping her chin in her hand, she rests her elbow on her upturned knee, observing Quistis' reaction. "Didn't even stick around while I undressed you. Just your boots and pants," she adds at the younger woman's confused frown. "Friends don't let friends sleep in denim. Honestly, I don't understand how you can wear those things at all."

"Good, good, that's good," Quistis repeats, nodding to reassure herself that she hadn't done anything too horrific. Everything was going to be okay. "Better than good, right?"

"Maybe for you." Xu raises a single brow. "Less so for me, being abandoned outside and then spending the rest of the night worried half to death."

The guilt gathers in her stomach like a whip around a fist. "Oh, Xu, you're right, I am so so sorry." Quistis reaches for her friend's hand and gives it a squeeze. "I don't know what came over me last night. I was such a rotten friend. Thank you for taking care for me anyway. I don't deserve you."

Appearing mollified by the apology, Xu squeezes her hand back. "Nah, it's my fault. It was my idea to get you drunk in the first place." She shrugs a shoulder and grins. "I guess you've earned a night or five of wild debauchery. Just... Do me a favour?" When Quistis gives her a slow nod, she continues. "Check your messages next time?" She gestures to the purse sitting on the low table beside the bed with her chin. "I wouldn't have worried half so much if I'd known you were alive."

"I will," promises Quistis, feeling miserable. "Not that there's going to be a next time." Though the drugs have begun to take their effect, she still feels woozy. This, compared with the knowledge she had treated her closest friend poorly, was enough to tell her she'd been right all along to avoid boozy nights out. "I'm never drinking that much again."

"Sure, sure," says Xu, laughing and rolling her eyes. "I think I've said that myself a million times." Patting Quistis' knee again, she rises from her seat on the bed and stretches her arms over her head. "Better get dressed. We're meeting everyone for breakfast in thirty."

The idea of going out in public is not the least bit appealing to Quistis at the moment, and she almost wrinkles her nose. It would be much nicer to wallow in self-pity than perform yet one more social obligation. On the other hand, she knows she'd regret missing this last opportunity to see her friends before everyone heads their separate ways to their separate lives. Pushing off the covers, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and prepares to stand. But before she does, another memory from the previous night pops into her brain.

"Speaking of the group," she calls out to Xu who had been heading out the bedroom door. "Did I see you kissing Zell last night, or was that some bizarre pigment of my fermentation?"

Halting outside the doorway, Xu's shoulders tighten under her silk robe. When she turns back around her eyes are narrowed into slits. "How do you know about that?"

"So I didn't make it up?" Quistis does her best to smother a giggle by covering her mouth with a hand. Judging by the glare on her friend's face she is unsuccessful. "What on earth possessed you?"

"Fuuuuuck me," Xu swears, dragging both hands through her hair. She steps back over to the bed and plonks down so hard both women bounce on the mattress. "Remind me to kill Dincht, and Kinneas for leaving me with him."

"What exactly happened?"

"Well," Xu begins, her face pulled into a sour expression. "When you were off doing whatever, sucking face with the lapdog, our heroic commander had a fight with the princess and took off."

Quistis is stunned. "Squall took off on Rinoa?" It doesn't make any sense. The other way around, sure. The man she knows is not the type to run away from his girlfriend in a public display of pique. Then again, he isn't the type to sing on stage either.

"It gets more idiotic. But to break it down, Tilmitt and Leonhart ran off together. Kinneas and I spent the night looking for her, and you, and found Dincht with whatsherface Heartilly. Kinneas and Heartilly then disappeared, sticking me with Dincht, who is lucky I felt too much pity for the plastered mess to leave him crying in the gutter. When I couldn't find you, and you didn't respond to my messages, I wanted to call it quits. Dincht refused because of some sick idea a woman would want him in his sorry state, so I had to snog him so he'd shut the hell up and go home," finishes Xu, leaning back on the bed with her arms propped behind her.

"That's quite a story. I hope everyone's okay." Quistis shakes her head, flabbergasted. "It sounds like a rough night for everyone."

"They're fine," replies Xu with a wave of her hand. "Tilmitt called already as zippy as ever." She kicks Quistis' calf with a bare foot. "I'd still like to know how you witnessed my civic disgrace."

Unsure how to answer without bringing on more questions, Quistis commits a mortal sin and fudges the truth to her best friend. "I don't remember. I'm sorry." Ducking her head, she examines her nails. The fidgeting is an immediate giveaway of her falsehood, she knows. "And I'm sorry a million times more for all you went through because of me. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Any chance you got that hot bartender's number?"

Quistis' faces darkens. Her karaoke bar encounter with the jerk and his rapey posse is the one incident on which she remains crystal clear. "No. And you don't want it, trust me."

Though Xu looks curious she doesn't press further. Instead, she loops an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Q, really. I take full ownership. You and Almasy have always had this weird thing. I should have gotten you out of there as soon as he showed up."

"Thing?" Quistis pulls away. "What thing? There's never been a thing." As if to dispel the very idea, she rises from the bed and moves toward the bureau where her bag and personal items lay. Her gaze meets Xu's in the attached mirror. "Other than him baiting me at every turn and me wanting to strangle him. Does that count as a thing?"

Xu grins back at her in the glass. "Sure does. But I'll let you pretend otherwise."

The younger woman directs her attention to sorting through her clothes. Her hair is a snarled disaster, and it makes her heart hurt to look at it. There's no time for a shower, however, so she's going to have to make it presentable somehow. Holding up her one non-uniform skirt, she checks for flaws or stains. It's not ideal but her jeans are no doubt wrecked so it will have to do.

"Although, speaking of things," says Xu, still sprawled on the bed. "Nida asked me to let you know that he's flattered but he already has a girlfriend."

"What?" Quistis drops the skirt and spins around, more baffled by this comment than anything else she's heard that morning.

Shrugging, Xu drags herself back into a standing position. "According to him, you came on pretty strong last night. I take it you don't remember that either?"

"I didn't even see him last night, let alone hit on him." Hands on hips, Quistis regards her friend with exasperation. "Is this some sort of a joke? I haven't spoken to him in days. Maybe weeks."

"No idea," replies the other woman as she strolls back toward the door. "But if you ask me, it's kind of bad form not to remember talking to the guy. You know how he gets."

The moment before her friend departs, Quistis detects laughter in her voice and knows she's been had. The cackles increase in volume when she snatches up a boot and whizzes it past her friend's head. She then tosses the second for good measure. Xu, to her credit, doesn't look back once.

"Ugh!"

A short while later, Quisits steps out of the shared bathroom after cleaning up as much as she can in a limited time. Her hair resisted all attempts at brushing, as predicted, so she's had to make do with a sloppy braid that irritates the back of her neck. She's decided her appearance is the least of her problems. After all, she's only meeting people who've already seen her at her worst. At this point, their opinions have been signed and sealed.

Alone in the sitting area, she perches on the arm of the couch to wait for Xu. The two are running a significant amount behind, and she tries not to think about the ticking clock. Quistis Trepe the SeeD despised being late, it's true, but she also didn't drink more than two cocktails a night or believe in sleeping in. Apparently, Quistis Trepe the SeeD no longer exists in more ways than one. She needs to come up with a new identity. Quistis Trepe the Reckless, perhaps. Quistis Trepe the Spontaneous. Quistis Trepe the Tardy.

Xu eventually materializes, appearing as well put together as ever in a black pencil skirt and crisp jacket. She takes one look at Quistis and pushes her lips to the side. "Is that really what you're wearing today?"

Glancing down at her white long-sleeved t-shirt and ankle-length striped pink skirt, Quistis shrugs, a bit puzzled. The clothes are clean, after all. "Why not?"

"I guess you can change after brunch," says Xu with a sigh, scooping up her shoulder bag. "You don't intend to look like a bohemian when we arrive in Galbadia Garden, I'm sure." She strides to the door then swivels back when it is apparent her friend isn't following. "Coming?"

Heart heavy and sinking fast, Quistis slides from the arm onto the couch itself. She nibbles on her thumbnail and looks up at the older woman, hating what she's about to say, though knowing it has to be done. "I'm not going to Galbadia, Xu."

There is a long and uncomfortable silence, during which Quistis wonders if being true to herself is worth losing one of the most important relationships she'd ever had.

The lull is broken when Xu lets out a puff of air. She drops her bag to the floor, hands falling to her hips, and scrutinizes Quistis with an unreadable light in her narrowed eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to Esthar with Leonhart and the Princess."

At this, she almost smiles. "No." Her expression resumes its serious aspect. Taking a deep breath, she collects her thoughts. "I don't want to teach children to fight wars they don't believe in, and I don't want to carry out orders drafted by politicians who've never seen battle."

"What are your plans then?" Xu holds up her hands before settling onto one hip and crossing her arms. "Staying in Balamb and teaching townie children the alphabet?"

Bristling under her friend's condescension, Quistis sits back and crosses her arms in an equivalent. gesture. She knows Xu is only annoyed because she expected them to keep working together. Her sarcasm is born of hurt, not contempt. However, while she wants to be considerate of her friend's feelings, there is a need to remain firm in her decision.

"I'd be teaching science to secondary students," she replies. "Biology, chemistry, physics." The final consonants are crisp as a morning in late fall.

"Sounds a mile a minute."

Quistis checks her automatic counter and alters her tactics. "I could get a condo in town that overlooks the ocean. Maybe a dog. I could read more. Or learn to cook something other than monster meat."

While not quite relenting, Xu does at least soften her glare and lower her arms. "You'd be bored in six months. Maybe three."

"How about Timber?" she proposes, almost as a joke with the intention of getting a rise out of her friend. "I could join a resistance group, live in a garret, devise nefarious plots against Galbadia. That would be exciting."

"Don't you dare," threatens Xu, apparently not seeing the humour in the suggestion. "I'll drag you to G Garden by your hair."

"There's also Trabia," says Quistis, leaning forward now in an effort to engage her friend in her thought processes. "There would be some combat instruction but I would have more freedom, and could likely do some independent research."

"If you don't die of hypothermia."

"You know I don't mind the cold," Quistis responds with a light smile. She recognizes Xu's grumpiness as a sign of her impending capitulation. "I'd still be in the Garden network. We could even collaborate."

Xu sighs again, even louder this time. "Is that what would make you happy?"

Hugging herself, Quistis pauses before answering. She wishes she felt more confident, and that she had an actual direction. This aimlessness is foreign and almost debilitating. There is no way to reassure her friend she knows what she's doing.

"I don't know what will make me happy," she says, hoping Xu will come to understand. "The only thing I do know is if I go to Galbadia Garden, I'll never have an opportunity to find out."

Running a hand through her hair, Xu shakes her head and lets her shoulders fall. "Gah, fine." She throws up her arms then holds out a finger. "But when you change your mind, and come crawling back for a job, you owe me a really expensive dinner."

"With silk napkins and shellfish bigger than my head." Relieved, Quistis smiles and stands to fold her friend in a quick hug. "Thanks for understanding."

"Yeah, yeah." Xu waves a hand, pulling away. She gives her a lopsided smile, eyes wet. "Now let's go get some food, eh? This hangover is demanding grease."

By the time they get to the agreed upon café in an older section of town, Quistis' head has resumed its pounding. The bright sunlight is not on her side. Luckily, Xu had popped the bottle of painkillers in her bag, and she swallows a few before opening the door. She hopes her friend is right and a rasher of greasy bacon or pile of deep-fried potatoes will kill the nastier effects of her night out, otherwise it's going to be a rough climb to the afternoon.

The door rings to announce their entrance, and Quistis follows Xu inside the popular diner. The interior is done up in an old-fashioned style that appeals to its most frequent local inhabitants. Crab traps decorate the ceiling and photos of fishing derby winners from decades earlier are prominent on the walls. Famous for its all-day breakfasts and seafood chowder, Quistis has always cherished the spot more for its house-roasted coffee beans. She recalls many an hour occupying a brown vinyl booth with one or more of her friends, rehashing missions or complaining about bad dates. One afternoon in particular comes to mind now, during which Zell had spent the greater part of her day listing all of the reasons he despises Seifer Almasy. Her pulse leaps at her internal recollection of the name. She is prevented from examining this disturbing and uncalled for emotional reaction by twin shrieks resounding a few tables down from the hostess counter.

"Quisty!" Selphie and Rinoa cry out, rushing forward and engulfing her in a hug that plasters her arms to her sides and renders her immobile. Zell is quick to join the huddle, squishing the three women in a tight hold that almost lifts Quistis off her feet.

"Um, hi guys," she greets them, a bit out of breath.

"We were so worried!" Selphie exclaims, squeezing her arm harder. "You're never, ever late. We thought you were mad at us."

"And then Irvine said you went missing last night so we freaked out," chimes in Zell. "Thought you were dead."

Quistis hears the scratch of a clearing throat and glances to her left to see Squall standing behind his girlfriend, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. His arms are folded and he leans on one hip.

"I told you she can take care of herself," he says in a lower voice than usual.

"Oh, hush, Squall!" Rinoa chides. "You were just as worried. Now get over here. You too, Irvine and Xu."

"Group hug!" Selphie demands, crushing in closer and grinning up at Quistis. "Super squeeze!"

With nothing to be done but accept her friends' affection, Quistis laughs. As odd of a group they are, she really is going to miss these people. She knows too well how lucky she is to have them in her life. Her eyes meet Xu's over Selphie's auburn head, and she sees the other woman is smiling as well. The goofy sentimentality of the moment is infectious for even her most caustic of companions.

"Thanks for your concern, everyone. But I'm fine," she eventually gets out. Once reassured, the younger women ease their hold, and she is able to extricate her arms from their human constraints as her friends step away.

"I'm really sorry for yelling at you in the ladies room last night," says Rinoa, clasping her hands behind her back. Regret swims in her eyes as she continues her apology with a shake of her head. "You were totally right. I feel terrible. I hope you haven't been avoiding me."

"Of course not," replies Quistis, taken aback. She smiles and tucks a strand of escaped hair behind her ear. "I just had a really long night. I'm glad I didn't miss seeing you today."

At her words, the younger woman's expression turns from one of contrition into one of speculation. The intrigued look in Rinoa's eyes makes Quistis uneasy. Before she can head off any deeper enquiry Selphie herds everyone back toward their shared booth.

A pretty server with thick light brown hair gathered into a high ponytail waits with a patient smile while they amble over. Xu and Quistis immediately request coffee, and she giggles, promising them a fresh pot is brewing as they speak. She jots down their food orders as well before taking her leave, bumping into Zell as she revolves on a sneakered heel. Quistis watches as the sever braces herself by grabbing Zell's shoulders and is curious when he lifts a hand to the young woman's waist, a gesture that broadcasts uncommon familiarity for the bashful male. He seems quite comfortable with the female server, even makes a joke about always getting in her way. She giggles again and tilts her head but as her back is facing Quistis, she can't catch her response. Regardless, it is obvious the server is flirting with her friend. She holds back a laugh, wondering if he's even aware enough to notice.

"Sit here, Quisty!" Selphie directs, slicing into her musings. "Between me and Irvy!"

As the group is larger than a traditional four-person table, the have dragged another over into the aisle to perch at the end. Both Xu and Zell snag a chair while Quistis presses into the booth after Selphie, Irvine sliding in behind. The lights in the smaller woman's eyes shine extra bright as she beams from the corner. An outsider might pass her over as an over-energetic teenager who's downed far more caffiene than is healthy, however, anyone who knows her as well as Quistis realizes the more hopped up Selphie acts, the darker the brew in her mental cauldron.

Worried, she tucks her head toward the man on her right and whispers in his ear, "Everything okay?"

Irvine's eyes are wistful under the brim of his hat. He murmurs back, "tell you later," then turns away, lifting his mug for a long drink.

"So, Quistis," says Rinoa from the other side of the booth where she's curled up next to Squall. Breakfast plate forgotten, her elbows lean on the table with her hands laced together to support the weight of her narrow chin. Her eyes gleam with suggestion. "About this long night of yours."

"Yeah!" Selphie pipes in, nudging Quistis with an elbow. "Did you run off somewhere with a super hot guy?"

At a loss of how to respond, and knowing she can't do so with full clarity, Quistis evades, "Not quite." She feels the combined weight of Xu and Irvine's gazes collapse on her head.

"What does that mean?" Looking enthralled, Rinoa leans further forward, now holding up her chin with a single hand. Quistis sees her exchange a glance with Selphie and detects a curbed laugh trembling in her lower lip. "You ran off with an ugly guy?"

"Or a hot girl?" suggests Selphie, nudging her side again.

Quistis is given a reprieve by the arrival of her coffee. The process of thanking the server, noting her extra wide smile at Zell, stirring in the milk, and taking her first much-needed sip gives her a chance to strategize. "It's kind of a long story."

"We've got all day, right sweetie?" Rinoa leans back a little to glance at her boyfriend. She drops her hand to clasp the one he rests on the table while crunching a piece of bacon with the other.

Seeing as how Squall looks like he feels even worse than she, Quistis could be nice and let him eat in peace. Unfortunately for him, this is a perfect opportunity to shift the spotlight and she leaps for it with both arms outstretched. "Weren't you supposed to be flying to Esthar this morning?"

Rinoa angles her head at Squall as if to give him a chance to provide more information. When he continues to stare at his plate and then picks up another piece of bacon, she turns back to Quistis with a small smile.

"That was the original plan, yes", she confirms, tone as breezy as the Balamb shore. "But after all of your amazing suggestions and talking it over with Squall last night, we've decided to check out Dollet instead." Her fingers edge between Squall's gloved ones and she leans closer to kiss him on the cheek.

"Dollet, really," says Quistis, eyes darting across to Xu who rolls her eyes over her raised mug. "That's great. What made you change your mind?"

"Well, I thought a lot about what you said and did some research. It turns out Dollet is really cultured, with music and theatre and beautiful beaches. Not stuffy at all. Great boutiques too!"

And, more importantly, Quistis thinks, ambivalent toward magic and sorcery. The small seaside state has no further pretensions of world domination, merely wishes to glory in its ancient past and remain outside the orbit of Galbadia's swelling empire. "It's a beautiful country, to be sure. Do you have any plans in terms of employment?"

Having finished all the bacon on his plate, Squall seems to have run out of excuses not to speak. "I've been offered a commanding position on the Home Guard," he says, voice rasping a little. He clears his throat and adjusts the shades over his eyes.

Quistis nods and sips her coffee, unsurprised. No doubt the dukedom will welcome the former Commander with open arms. His name alone will be a large boost to the morale of their national defence, and a kick in the teeth to their western neighbours.

"If you're interested," she says to Rinoa, "I have close connections within the duchy government. I'd be happy to provide an introduction to the duchess."

"Wow, thanks! That would be great!" Rinoa radiates her joy around the table. "It all sounds so old world, you know? The opposite of Esthar's ultra technology."

Quistis smiles back. "I have a feeling you and Her Grace will get along really well."

Further conversation is interrupted when the server returns with the two food orders and a pot of steaming coffee. Once she is done setting down plates and re-filling mugs, she steps back so she is standing by Zell's chair, where he sits with one foot on the opposite knee, slurping orange juice.

"Does anyone need anything else?" she asks, looking down at Zell with her green eyes wide and white teeth flashing. When the group responds in the negative, she continues to linger. "You're sure? Zell? More juice?"

"Nah, I'm good," he replies, tipping his head up to lend her a quick smile. "Thanks, Katri."

Other than Squall's metal spoon stirring sugar into his extra-creamy coffee, the table remains silent as the server walks away. Irvine emits a groan and pulls his hat down over his eyes, sinking lower in the booth. Xu smacks her hand against her forehead and looks as if she'd rather be smacking the man next to her. The other three women make eye contact and share amused smiles before turning to stare at Zell almost in sync.

Seeming to realize he is now the centre of attention, he pats his chin and then wipes a napkin over his mouth. "What? Do I have ketchup on my face or something?"

"Oh, Zell," says Selphie with a slow shake of her head.

"What? Where is it?" Looking panicked, he snatches another napkin from the table and starts wiping his cheeks. "Tell me!"

Now Xu does whack the back of his head, hard enough to cause him to leap into a defensive pose. The metal chair scrapes along the tile and bangs into the empty booth a metre away as he raises his fists against an imagined opponent. This causes everyone to laugh, including the green-gilled commander.

"Sit down, Dincht, before you hurt yourself," advises Xu.

Frowning with perplexity, he does as he's told, dragging the chair back over and plonking down in it. He rubs the back of his head while a telltale flush creeps up his neck.

Perhaps taking pity on the embarrassed young man, Rinoa leans over to give his hand a quick squeeze. "We're sorry for teasing you, it's just... You know the waitress is totally into you, right?"

This appears to muddle Zell even more. "Katri? No way. Her parents are good friends with Ma. I've known her, like, forever."

"Doesn't mean the little lady can't have a crush," says Irvine, emerging from under his hat. He sits up a little and pushes on the brim to give his friend a wink. "As hard as it is to believe. Why don't ya go on up and talk to her?"

"You think I should?" Gazing around the table, Zell looks as if he's just been offered the position of Commander of Balamb Garden. Quistis lends him her most encouraging smile as Selphie and Rinoa nod with vehemence and Squall examines his gloves.

"If you don't," says Xu, swallowing a bite of her omelette, "I'll hit you even harder than the last time."

Taking a moment, the man in question frowns down at his juice glass. He wipes his hands on his shorts, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. His brows furrow deep trenches into the otherwise smooth skin of his forehead.

"Move it, Dincht," barks Xu, voice as threatening as a Behemoth's roar.

Always keen to follow the orders of a superior officer, Zell vaults out of the chair and scuttles over to the server station where Katri stands typing something into the point of sale system. His friends shift and crane their heads to watch unabashed as he approaches the young woman with one hand scratching the back of his shoulder. Though he feigns more interest in his coffee cup, even Squall turns in the booth to have a better view.

Starting to feel boorish for spying, Quistis tries to focus on her hash browns. It isn't easy with Selphie practically standing on the vinyl beside her hopping up and down and stage-whispering updates. Poor Zell, she thinks, half-snickering into her breakfast at her female friend's antics. Maybe he'll have better luck when we're not around to humiliate him.

The thought of everyone zipping off to different parts of the world without her quells her laughter, and she takes a sip of water in an attempt to swallow her sudden maudlin frame of mind.

"Eek! They're looking this way!" Rinoa squeals, ducking from where she'd been peeking over the side of the booth. Selphie dives under the table in kind, giggling all the way.

"Looks like he's coming back now," says Irvine, who's tall enough to see to the reception area. "Just gave a thumbs-up!"

Almost the whole table claps and cheers at the news. Selphie climbs back onto the cushion and shimmies, whooping and booyakaing loud enough for her friends in Trabia to hear.

"Nice one, Dincht!" Irvine congratulates the conquering hero as he returns to the table. "How does it feel to be a real man?"

Zell flops into the chair with a stunned sort of grin frozen on his face. "It feels great," he replies, breathless and blushing. "I can't believe I have a date!"

"Yahoo!" Selphie exclaims to Rinoa's and Irvine's accompanying laughter. She wriggles to her feet in the tight space and dances in a circle, flip flops squeaking on the cheap material.

When she starts to jump up and down, the table shakes, and Quistis seizes her mug before it spills. While accustomed to the younger woman's over the top shenanigans, her patience has a limit, particularly if said high jinks get in the way of her sustenance as she nurses a hangover. With a wince, she glances up at the woman to ask her to please sit down.

However, before she can get the words out, she notices that Selphie has stopped dancing and is staring at the diner entrance. Quistis immediately turns to look at what has captured her friend's interest. Her stomach drops and pulse freezes when Fujin and Raijin enter the restaurant, followed, of course, by Seifer.

His eyes meet hers as he leads the way to a booth on the far wall. His brows are raised in a question, and she is horrified to catch herself almost smiling in return. Instead, she inclines her head in acknowledgement then forces her gaze away. She dislikes the uncomfortable feeling of being watched and hates that she wants to look back. She hears rather than sees Selphie fall against the booth, slide down into a seated position, and emit a loud gust of air.

"What's HE doing here?" Zell asks, almost word for word matching his growled outrage the night before.

"Give 'em a break," suggests Irvine, leaning back and resting an arm along the top of the booth. "They need to eat as much as we do."

"I don't mind THEM," the other man grumbles, earlier jubilation vanquished. "Just HIM." His elbows drop to his knees and he hunches down in the chair, glaring over at the trio like he can punch Seifer with his brain. For their part, the intruding group doesn't seem to notice they are being observed, and Zell's mind-fists have little to no effect.

"So, what do everyone's timelines look like?" asks Rinoa, filling the startling quiet with her bright personality. "We aren't leaving for Dollet until tomorrow morning."

After draining the rest of her coffee, Quistis sends her a grateful smile. "I don't have any plans, as yet. Though I do need some new clothes."

"Yay, shopping! Is everyone else up for hanging out today?"

"I don't know when Irvy's leaving," answers Selphie, "but I'm flying to Esthar with Nida at nineteen hundred." She tosses the words in a haughty and flippant fashion that is disturbing to Quistis for its pure incongruity. "This way I get to be in Trabia first thing tomorrow. I really, really can't wait," she finishes, all emphasis on the first-person pronoun.

The tension is swift to arrive, and it presses against Quistis on both sides. Irvine shifts next to her but does not add to the dialogue. Her heart goes out to him and to Selphie for whatever occurred between them last night. If they are no longer travelling together she can only imagine it must have been something irrevocable. Now is not the time or the place to question her friends for details. She exchanges a worried glance with Rinoa who also seems torn.

"Uh, what about you, Xu?" asks the latter woman, a determined smile stretching across her lips. "When do you leave for Galbadia?"

Too lost in her anguish for her friends, Quistis doesn't hear Xu's response. Her dual sympathies for both man and woman match in strength and war with one another. One side of her wants to pull Selphie into a hug while the other wants to wants to find a quiet place to talk alone with Irvine. Both are in need and deserving of her comfort but choosing either first would be almost like picking sides. Her heart clenches with anxiety. Loving people is so complicated, she thinks. Life was much simpler when it was just her and her textbooks.

Gazing around the near-empty diner, making sure to avoid a certain pulse-raising corner to the upper right, her eyes land on one of the television screens mounted on the ceiling. She hadn't noticed them earlier, as television broadcasts are a relatively new phenomenon in Balamb and of little interest to SeeDs in general. Keen now for a distraction, she watches what must be a re-cap of a hockey game. With the sound off, it's hard to follow. The screen then flips from a sportscaster in front of an ice rink to sky-high flames in what looks like downtown Timber. Quistis sits forward, food and surroundings forgotten.

Capital letters slam across the bottom of the screen declaring, "TURMOIL IN TIMBER". Without her glasses, the television is too far away for her to make out any of the words beneath the harrowing title. Seconds later, a familiar face stands in front of the fiery scene with a microphone thrust to his chin by the floating hand of an unseen journalist. She recognizes Watts quickly, though it's been some time since they last met. His face on the screen is peppered with ash. It drives her crazy that she can't hear what he's saying.

Catching sight of their server, Katri, walking down the aisle with a tray to clear their table, Quistis motions to the television. "Are you able to turn the sound up, please?"

As the other woman hurries to oblige, the other members of the group seated at the table turn their attentions to the screen above. Quistis hears Rinoa gasp at the sight of her old comrade from the Forest Owls and then lets the world around her disappear once more as a broadcasted voice blares into the diner.

By this time Watts has vanished. The camera now pans a surging crowd congregated in front of the Timber Armoury, which has been housing the Galbadian military for the twenty years since the invasion. Hundreds of protesters are waving signs and shaking fists, some standing on cars or the shoulders of friends. Others jump up and down and yell in the faces of the uniformed Galbadian shoulders who stand in a line blocking the entrance to the building. The television then flashes to another scene shot in the same location only now the protest has devolved into violence. Soldiers battle armed civilians and appear to be losing. Smoke fills the air and Quistis picks up the sounds breaking glass and human screams. Rubble and detritus litter the street while flames pour from the armoury roof.

 _"As you can see, what the militant anarchists promised would be a peaceful gathering has quickly turned into mayhem,"_ the journalist's voiceover describes. _"Firefighters have been working diligently to contain the worst of the blaze but extremely high temperatures have forced them outside. Though no civilian deaths or injuries have been reported thus far, the central core of the city remains under evacuation. The Galbadian military is estimating up to 250 employees were present in the building at the time of the blast. Source of the explosion is under investigation. Only time will tell how many innocent casualties will result from these heinous acts of terrorism."_

"Acts of war," mutters Quistis, eyes pinned on the screen. "Not terrorism."

The camera swings back to a male reporter standing a safe distance from the armoury, military vehicles blocking most of the view behind him. Though the microphone still picks up the crashing of metal on metal and the firing of automatic weapons. Without warning, the camera jolts to the left, where a thin young man in a torn blue sweater sprints past a standard combat mobile unit. He holds one arm up in the air, and the camera zooms in for a close-up of the object in his hand: a grenade. It looks old. She guesses it might even pre-date the First Sorceress War.

 _"Timber free from the forest to the sea! You can kill the revolutionary, but never the revolution!"_

"Fucking Zone," Seifer swears from the other side of the restaurant. "Hyne-damned moron."

Quistis flicks a glance toward him then turns back to the television to see the man whip back his shoulder and follow through with his arm in an expert pitch. The small explosive rests after a single bounce on top of the military vehicle. The videographer starts to run at that moment and the camera swivels away from the impending carnage, capturing Zone's back as he speeds into an alley. The out of breath reporter returns to the screen.

 _"I believe that was a lead member of the largest resistance faction in Timber, the Forest Owls. As you heard earlier, the Forest Owls have taken credit for organizing this event that has led to the potential deaths of hundreds of hard-working Galbadian citizens. Rest assured, the investigation will continue and security forces will not rest until every member of this violent terrorist group is in custody and peace is restored. Residents of Timber are being asked to report any suspicious activity they may have witnessed in their neighbourhoods leading up to this tragedy. We will remain on scene to continue reporting live as the situation unfolds."_

The screen switches to a shot of a newsroom with a female anchor who repeats the same information and then moves on to a story about a house in Balamb built entirely from rubbish washed up from the ocean.

Quistis falls back against the vinyl, only partially aware of the conversation buzzing around the table. Her mind overflows with a deluge of possible outcomes. A tiny line forms between her delicate brows as her brain parses each vital fact. The broadcast was no doubt censored, as all media are in Timber. Very little information escapes the small invaded territory and what does is always twisted to favour the controlling power. The reporter's choice of words and incorrect use of the word "terrorism" was an obvious attempt to manipulate the audience into sympathizing with the Galbadian government. Quistis knows better. She also knows that ongoing martial law in Timber has been oppressing residents for over a decade and that circumstances must have degenerated more than she realized for resistance groups to take such divisive action. What she doesn't know is how they amassed the munitions for such a feat, or how Galbadia will respond once this is over. Zone better go into hiding fast or he may not live another 24 hours.

She thinks on all this while sitting frozen in the diner booth, forefinger toying with her bottom lip. Timber is the one region in which she hadn't spent much time as a SeeD. Now that her time is her own, she has a lot to consider. While she ponders all this, her gaze floats unseeing about the restaurant.

The Forest Owls' contract with Balamb Garden, signed by Cid Kramer two years ago, is the only agreement that was not completed before the mercenary institution closed its doors. It had never been taken seriously by Garden administrators and lacked any legal grit due to its nebulous wording and indefinite timeline. Not to mention, to carry out the intentions of the commission would have pit the broke Balamb Garden against the one with all the cash. On paper, Galbadia Garden is an autonomous organization, separate from the state with full capacity for independent action. The reality is much different. Nonetheless, dismantling Galbadia's annexation of the once-sovereign state of Timber remains the last unfinished business from the previous Sorceress War.

A bump from Irvine's elbow as he gesticulates next to her tunes Quistis back in to the present day. When her eyes regain their focus, she discovers they had fallen on Seifer without her knowing it. Judging by the wide smirk on his face, she deduces they have been there for some time.

He sits across from Fujin and Raijin, legs stretched into the aisle, arms behind his head. Memories from the previous night flood her brain as she studies him. He looks even more out of place in the timeworn diner than he had in the modernistic bar. She doesn't feel embarrassment, the way she expected to when she saw him the next time. No, the tightening she feels in her belly is more like intense provocation.

Uncomfortable, she shifts to turn away from his heavy stare. But before she can, he cocks his head and raises a thick blond brow, rolling his eyes up toward the television screen. Her eyes narrow in response and she angles her head, unsure of what he's trying to relay. When he repeats the same facial gestures in a more exaggerated fashion, she follows his line of sight and sees that the news is showing the same re-cap of the disturbing events in Timber. Curious, she looks back at Seifer, and he raises both brows this time, lips curved in a challenging grin. When comprehension hits her, she almost laughs out loud. The man must be insane, she thinks. There is no way she is going with him to Timber.

She isn't without sympathy for the Forest Owls or the plight of the Timber population. It is easy for her to imagine herself in their place; she remembers how she felt during the Battle of the Gardens, with the terrifying fear of losing her home to an invading force clawing at her throat. But they are only two people, and one of them is infamous for self-destructive tendencies. Without Balamb Garden's resources, what could they achieve beyond getting themselves killed?

Then again, the idea of using her amassed skills to make a difference in peoples' lives is enticing. It's one of the reasons she loved being a SeeD. She has the strength and training to be able to help vulnerable people in desperate situations. It would be wrong to let her abilities languish in a classroom. There is also the matter of her unpaid debt to Zone.

Seifer's eyes continue to taunt her, and she shakes her head. Dangers in Timber aside, the thought of him as a partner is preposterous. Brash, reckless, abrasive, combative, and at times deliberately cruel, he's the last person she would choose to take with her on a mission. They would kill each other before they could do anything to help the resistance. On the other hand, he's magnificent in battle, almost unstoppable. They had fought well together against the bar thugs last night, she must admit. If it comes down to it, she'd rather have him on her team than fight against him.

She can't deny the rush of adrenaline she feels when she thinks about entering the fray and taking on such a massive purpose. This is no standard Garden mission, she knows. None of the legwork will be done for her, and it could take years to complete. That is, if she survives and doesn't rot in the D District Prison.

But... At the young age of twenty, there is still much she believes she is capable of accomplishing. Her best skills are wasted behind a desk grading papers. There will be time to teach later when she is too injured and tired to fight. The Sorceress War doesn't have to have been her greatest moment. Her time as a SeeD could be just a start.

What persuades her isn't Seifer's dare, or even her own desire to escape a lifetime of predictability. Rather, it's the conviction that it is the right thing to do, and that it will give meaning to all the years of striving and scrambling and struggling to be good enough. If they are successful in helping bring about an independent Timber, everything in her past will have been worth it.

She'll deal with Xu's reaction later.

"You ready, Quisty?" Rinoa inquires, poking her leg under the table with a toe and breaking her out of her trance.

"Yes," she says, nodding. Her smile, when it comes, reaches her eyes. "Yes, I think I finally am."

As she moves out of the booth, she sends another glace toward Seifer, head tilted, lips still curved. _I accept your challenge,_ she tells him with her eyes. _Timber free from the forest to the sea._

* * *

 _ **Author's note:**_ _Thanks for your indulgences. You've made my summer._


End file.
